


Dreamcatcher

by AllyinthekeyofX



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, MSR, Novel Length, Scully torture, UST, X-file
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-08-29 17:52:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 57,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8499490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllyinthekeyofX/pseuds/AllyinthekeyofX
Summary: A series of mysterious disappearances draw Scully deep in to a nightmare world where nothing is as it seems.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first full length case file fic I ever wrote. I finished it back in 2000. I think it’s my all time favourite fic and I will be forever proud of it. Time it saw the light of day again. Hope you enjoy – I’m aiming to update daily. I’ve not been back on the XF Fic scene for very long but I can honestly say I’m loving every minute. Reviews make my heart sing :D  
> Ally x

Northeast Georgetown Hospital. Washington DC. May 16th 1999.

Fox Mulder ran a trembling hand over his eyes, closing them for a second against the image before him. 

Knowing that the action was essentially futile. 

Nothing, not all the therapy, all the blanking, all the self induced Friday night alcoholic stupors would ever rid him of the sight of his partner hooked up to the ventilator before him.

His first though as he had entered this room for the first time was that this couldn't possibly be his partner. She had seemed even smaller than she actually was, the unhealthy pallor of her skin suggesting that she was already dead.

He had almost been afraid to walk towards her, afraid that in doing so he would break the spell that held her hovering somewhere between life and death.

But eventually he had made the walk across the small space that separated them, grasping her ice cold hand in his, hoping against hope that some of his health, his warmth, would be transferred to her. As if his touch alone could bring her back to him.

A futile hope, that as the hours had turned in to days and still she lay, unmoving and unresponsive to the sounds around her.

A touch on his shoulder brought him back to the here and now, and through sleep deprived eyes he managed to focus on the hazy vision of the woman who had remained with him throughout this hellish week. 

But right now he didn't want her there and he closed his eyes again. Unwilling as yet to face this version of a reality he wanted no part of.

“Fox.”

The voice was gentle, cajoling, attempting to summon him from his own personal version of hell.

Leave me alone

“Fox, please. I know this is hard.....”

Hard? Jesus.........Hard?

He almost laughed at the absurdity of it, only the continuing reasoning from Margaret Scully preventing him from succumbing to this wholly inappropriate action.

“......but we have to go now.”

NO! I have to stay with her. Always, I promised I would always stay with her....

He opened his eyes slowly.

“I can’t do this. I can’t let her go like this.”

He tightened the grip on Scully’s hand. A grip he had not relinquished for more than five minutes in the days since she had been brought here, and traced a thumb over the fragile network of veins that contrasted sharply against the whiteness of her skin.

Two weeks ago I was commenting on her tan.

The thought popped unbidden to his mind, and he had to bite his lip sharply to keep the tears at bay.

Two weeks ago I was hitting baseballs with her in the park

Oh God, how had this happened? How had it come to this?

Two fucking weeks ago we were finally laughing again.

A moan escaped his lips as he dropped his head forwards, bringing her tightly curled hand to cheek. Resting it there, no longer even attempting to curb the flow of tears that pooled in his eyes and escaped their confines, making salty tracks down his face. 

A thousand memories of those same strong hands, time and again delicately chasing away his demons, feather light touches on his back, his face, his arm. 

An unspoken assurance that, no matter how hard things got, she was with him. 

That everything would be all right.

How could he live his life without that touch? How could he even want to?

“You have to let her go Fox. You have to say goodbye. We all do.”

He finally turned his gaze to the woman above him, a woman, who, like her daughter had chosen to forgive him for the many wrongs he had brought on them. A woman who had essentially, taken the role of the loving mother he never had. Who even now, in the wake of her own grief remained strong for him. 

Who would remain strong even after.........after..........

after I help to kill her daughter

He felt the hand on his shoulder again. Small, strong, determined. Just like Scully. 

His Scully.

Not yours anymore.

“I need a minute alone with her.”

He felt rather than observed the slight nod. Attuned as he was to the Scully women, he felt it through the increased pressure of her hand.

“I’ll be right outside.”

Mulder nodded, waiting until he heard the tell tale click of the door closing. It was a sound he’d come to recognise easily through the past few days, and then turned his attention fully to the woman lying prone before him.

She had lost weight since the day he had brought her back despite the high tech crap they had fed in to her via one of the half dozen intravenous tubes that snaked out of her body. 

On the first day, he had demanded to know what their every purpose was.

Needing to fall back on hard facts to take him away from the horror of the situation. 

Finding small comfort in the fact that the invaders in her creamy skin were givers of life. Givers of hope.

But over the days that followed, the hope had waned, until he was forced to confront the reality of her situation. No amount of feeding, of nurturing, of loving her was ever going to bring her back to him. By doing so they were just prolonging the agony for all of them......and now the decision had been taken.

It was time to stop.

It was time to let her go.

Still holding her hand, Mulder eased himself carefully on to the bed beside her, unwilling even now to dislodge or disturb the equipment surrounding her. Her body rolled slightly against the pressure and rested against him, and even through the layers of sheets and blankets designed to keep her warm now that her temperature had dropped so low, the feel of her made his heart constrict painfully.

Every emotion in his conscious mind screamed at him to just gather her up in his arms and take her to someplace safe where nothing and no one would ever harm her. To protect her as he had always vowed to do and almost unbidden he raised her slender frame slightly so as to cradle her against his chest, holding her against him as he stroked her hair, her face, her back. 

Trying to tell her all the things she had needed to hear in life. 

The things he had never told her through some stupid misplaced sense of pride. 

Not enough time Scully. There was never enough time for me to tell you. Never enough words to express what you mean to me.

“I’m sorry. So sorry I never told you. So sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. I’m sorry for a thousand things that you’ll never hear...........”

His voice finally broke, and Mulder pressed his lips to the crown of her head. Breathing in the scent of her that lingered despite the antiseptic environment she was in.

Saying through thought rather than words what he needed her to hear. 

Saying goodbye.

Continued in chapter 1


	2. One

Washington DC. May 1st 1999 8:03pm

14 days earlier.

"So, Agent Scully, you feeling accustomed to the feel of my bat yet?"

Scully twisted her body as best she could from within the confines of Mulders strong arms and raised her eyebrow coolly, smothering the laughter that had been building up inside of her since they had started all this.

Play by the rules, Dana. Give him what he wants.

"Oh." 

Her voice came out sounding perplexed, as if she had given his question serious thought...

"That's your bat I feel, huh?"

...and she was rewarded when colour spread along Mulders face like a wave. 

Sweeping away the embarrassment her retort had generated, he continued the game. 

Dipping his mouth once more to rest tantalizingly close to her ear. Sighing as he did so, he was surprised to see the merest shudder course through her body as his breath tickled her neck.

"No, Scully. What you're feeling there is my weapon. Loaded and ready to fire..."

Despite her best efforts, a bark of laughter forced itself from her mouth and her hold on the ash baseball bat loosened, which, had it not been for Mulders grip, would have fallen to the ground.

"Mulder!" she admonished, flicking her eyes to the small boy who stood grinning at them not 15 feet away. "There are children present! Anyway, I thought we were playing ball."

Behind her Mulder nodded.

"Hey kid I'm not paying you ten bucks an hour to stand there watching the sky. Do your damn job or I'll send Agent Scully after you. . .OW!"

He rubbed the spot where Scully's elbow had connected with him.

"What was that for?"

"Shut up, Mulder! I'm not going to tell you again. I need to concentrate."

Mulder cocked his head on one side. 

"Want to try it on your own now?"

"Not really. I'm fairly comfortable where we are right now."

She settled her gaze back to the child in front of them. 

"Plus I have someone to blame when we miss."

 

9:31p.m.

"Well, Scully, I'll say this for you - you have a hell of a right arm on you. Ever thought of doing this professionally?"

The comment earned him yet another light punch on his forearm, but given half- heartedly and only because he expected it of her.

"Mulder, you're a jerk sometimes." 

She smiled up at him and just for a second her eyes seemed to radiate a million different shades of blue, caught as they were by the spotlights that bordered the field. He felt like he could submerge himself in the goodness of her, holding his breath until he was forced to resurface for air, finally exploring the essence of Dana Scully, testing it, making it his.

"Only sometimes?" he teased.

Scully laughed, but shook her head slightly, indicating she had no wish to enter into that old argument with him, and reluctantly tore her gaze away from his.

They had finished with the baseball tutorial when the supply of balls had waned. Mulder had dug deep in to his pockets and sent Poor Boy on his way.

Scully had been sure that he was about to do the same with her, but instead, he had taken her hand and led her to the centre of the field. She had protested weakly as he trotted off to retrieve a large sports bag, and as he had dug into its depths to finally reveal a large tasselled blanket - the kind usually found on family picnics - she had crossed her arms over her chest, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Mulder...what are you doing?"

His only response had been to spread the blanket out on the dusty earth.

"Sit down, Scully. I have something for you."

She tried to shake her head, to protest that it was getting late, to voice the million excuses that suddenly crowded her head. But instead she acquiesced and dropped down beside him.

"Now close your eyes."

"What?" She laughed shakily but nonetheless did as he directed.

Seconds later she yelped as something freezing cold and solid dropped into her hand. Looking down she laughed out loud as her eyes lit upon a Chocolate Mega-cone in all its glory.

Correction, Dana; all its full fat- calorie - laden - artery-hardening glory.

Mulder smiled. 

"I tried to get you one of those non-fat tofutti rice pop things you like so much, but the clerk looked like I was from outer space when I asked him, so this'll have to do. And look..."

He produced an identical cone from what Scully could now identify as a cooler, complete with crushed ice.

"You don't have to share this one."

As it turned out, she ended up half sharing anyway. 

Mulder finished his cone with all the eagerness of a half-starved puppy, and since his eyes never left her hand as she made her way more daintily through the mass of ice cream and chocolate, she eventually took pity on him and surrendered its remains to him, watching in wonderment as it disappeared in three short bites.

And now she just sat, comfortable in his presence, listening to him recount the tale of alien baseball stars and rogue policemen. She didn't believe it for a minute, but allowed the sound of his voice to lull her into complete relaxation as he had done so many times in the past.

He had a beautiful voice, full of melody, and soft for a man of his size, and she allowed its harmony to wash over her in waves.

A perfect end to what had started out as such a crappy day. He had made it end perfectly with a gesture that was surprising both in its spontaneity and its tenderness. Mulder was not known for either.

"Scully?"

"Mmmmmmmmmm?"

"Are you falling asleep on me?"

Scully shook her head slightly, unable to summon up the energy to do anything more taxing.

"Uh uh. I'm awake, Mulder."

He snorted and she felt the cool air hit her as he shifted position on the blanket, the warmth of him leaving her.

"C'mon. Time to get you home."

He extended a hand down to her as he got to his feet and she accepted it gratefully, using him to pull herself up so she was facing him. His hazel eyes had turned green in the strange light that surrounded them, and almost on a whim, she stood up on tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek, feeling the stubble scratching her lips pleasantly.

"Thank you, Mulder."

He gathered up the blanket and stuffed it back in the bag, which he slung effortlessly over his shoulder, and caught Scully's hand in his, bringing it up in front of his face.

"Get something on those blisters, huh?"

Scully nodded and almost against her will, her fingers curled around his, letting her thumb trace small circles over and over on the back of his hand.

Mulder left it there, surprised but pleased by this sudden show of intimacy, and together they walked back across the wide expanse of green towards the exit. 

Back toward the real world.

Continued in part 2


	3. Chapter 3

J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington DC. May 3rd 1999 7:42 a.m.

"Hey Ariel...you gonna stay in there all day or what?"

Mulder crossed his arms over his chest as his partner neared the side of the deserted pool. 

50 meters long, Olympic sized, it was one of the few luxuries afforded them by their federal employers. Built only 10 years ago as part of a program designed to allow its agents a way of staying in good physical shape, but more importantly as a way of ridding themselves of the tensions a difficult case might bring, it was rarely this empty.

Scully smiled self-consciously up at Mulder, smoothed the errant red hair away from where it was plastered across her face, and regarded him through spiky, waterlogged lashes.

"Ariel?" she queried uncertainly.

Mulder grinned. 

"What, you never saw The Little Mermaid Agent Scully?"

Off Scully's continued bewilderment, he laughed and extended a hand down to her. 

"I guess not."

Ignoring his outstretched hand, Scully lightly rested her palms against the slick tiled surface of the pool's side and lifted her body out of the water in one fluid movement, hardly rippling the water's surface, trying unsuccessfully to hide the grimace of pain the movement brought.

Mulder, though, as sharp as ever, picked it up immediately. 

"Sore, huh?"

He stepped away from her a fraction to allow her the space to get to her feet, and as she did so, he handed her the thick, fluffy towel that had been hanging over the railing that bordered the pool, ignoring the look she threw his way.

"Mulder...do me a favour, would you...?"

She began towelling the moisture from her skin, which glowed a light honeyed gold in the light from the spots above them, and Mulder suddenly discovered that he couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

Scully has a tan.

Scully never has a tan.

Oblivious to his scrutiny, she continued.

"The next time you decide to give me an impromptu lesson in the finer points of blasting a baseball into the night sky...just don't okay? My arms feel like they've been ripped off at the shoulder and reattached. I could barely move them yesterday."

Mulder coughed, and extended a hand toward the shimmering expanse of water.

"Physician, heal thyself?" he queried.  
Scully softened slightly.

"Something like that, yes. Anyway, why are you here? We aren't due at the office for over an hour. What's going on?"

Mulder grinned, and let his gaze rest once more on his partner's honeyed skin.

"I couldn't pass up the opportunity of seeing you in your bathing suit. The suntan is an added bonus, though."

"Mulder..."

He caught the warning note in her voice...and something else. 

Embarrassment?

Pleasure? 

He couldn't define her tone but he knew enough about her to realize that the game playing was over, at least for now. 

He lightly rested a hand at her back and began steering her toward the locker rooms, enjoying, despite his best intentions, the feeling of her cool, bare skin beneath his palm.

"I got a call from Skinner this morning. He has a case for us. And you have..." 

He glanced at his watch. 

"Exactly seventeen minutes to get dried, changed and ready before we get summoned to his domain for a meeting. I guess we're not going to make it on time."

Scully paused at the entrance to the women's locker room, and met the direct challenge in her partner's hazel eyes with a determined stare. 

"I'll see you there in fifteen. Bring coffee."

 

8.00 am

Scully threw Mulder a triumphant look as she stepped into the outer office of her superior a mere fourteen minutes after their parting at the pool.

Confident that her appearance bordered on the immaculate, she raised one sculptured eyebrow at him as she reached for the Styrofoam cup of evil smelling coffee he held in his hand.

"Well?"

Mulder whistled softly.

Hair, makeup, clothing from the tailored linen suit to the impossibly high-heeled pumps all present and correct.

No hint of chlorine, which suggested that not only had she changed in record time, but that she had found the time to shower away the scents of the pool.

How the hell did she manage to do that in fourteen minutes?

He decided to answer truthfully. 

"I'm impressed."

Scully took a sip of the coffee and winced. Disgusting as always, but at least it was warm and wet and took away some of the dryness in her throat that always followed a swim.

"So, any idea why we're here? Aside from the obvious, that is?"

 

Mulder shook his head, but before he could answer, the door to Skinner's office swung open and the stern face of their superior appeared. 

Looking even grimmer than usual, he nodded curtly at the two agents before him.

"Scully, Mulder. Come inside, please."

Scully set the coffee cup down on the small table that graced the outer office and sent a silent message to her partner.

I guess we're about to find out.

He nodded slightly and allowed her to precede him across the small expanse of carpeted floor and in through the still open door.

As was usually the case, two chairs had been placed on the other side of Skinner's large desk, and he motioned them to take a seat, allowing them to get relatively comfortable before he began.

"A case file came across my desk some days ago, requesting our involvement...your involvement with a child kidnapping. Initially, I refused the request and passed the details on to the VCS. Last night the file reappeared, and this time I believe it warrants a closer look."

Scully traded glances with her partner, before turning her attention back to the file Skinner now held out towards her. It was unlike him to be this vague, and for some reason, the vagueness unsettled her.

"Sir? I'm not sure I understand. Why now? Why not leave it with the VCS. Kidnapping doesn't normally fall under the rubric of the X-fi......"

She accepted the proffered file and flipped it open, her words dying in her throat as she scanned the first page.

Mulder waited patiently as she quickly read through the report of the child's abduction and subsequent discovery four days later, and her breath caught in her throat as she finally began to recount the details to him.

"The child disappeared from her bed on the night of twenty-sixth April, no ransom note, no communication, no evidence found at the scene. Intensive searches turned up nothing. No suspects. No leads. Nothing to indicate motive or even incidence of foul play. No sign of struggle at the scene. Shared a school dormitory with five other girls, none of whom remember hearing or seeing anything untoward."

She stopped reading suddenly as her eyebrows shot up, a shiver visibly working its way up her suited back. 

Mulder leaned forward, intrigued. For Scully to freak out, even marginally, after everything they had witnessed over the past six years, meant that something in that file had jarred her.

"Scully? What?"

Slowly she turned her eyes toward him, no longer needing to read the file to apprise him of its contents.

"It says here that screaming was reported from the dormitory at approximately 11:05 last night. Almost immediately the dorm mother was on the scene to discover one of the other girls huddled over the missing girl's bed covered in blood. On closer inspection, it was clear where the blood had come from."

She handed the file to Mulder. 

"Take a look for yourself."  
Mulder glanced down at the glossy 8x10 and blanched visibly, jaw clenching as he forced himself to keep focused on the grisly scene before him, captured for eternity by the crime scene photographer in full, glorious Kodak colour.

A child-sized bed, a brightly checked comforter, now only barely visible beneath...beneath...

Jesus, so much blood.

"What the hell is that?"

Scully swallowed, trying hard to hold on to her professional facade in light of the gruesome realization she had made only seconds before, and one which she now had to pass on to her partner.

"That...is Elizabeth Armstrong. Returned to her bed exactly four days to the minute from when she was taken...or at least what was left of her."

"Jesus Christ."

 

Mulder felt the acidic taste of his recently digested breakfast coming back to haunt him. The glistening mass of blood, tissue and bone bore absolutely no resemblance to a human being, let alone the smiling little girl who stared back at him from the front page of the document.

"It looks as though something chewed her up and...and...spit her out again. How the hell did they make the ID?"

This time the question was directed solely at Skinner, who had remained silent throughout. He had already experienced the full horror of the missing girls' physical state, and unlike the two agents before him, had thoroughly read through the file.

"Blood and tissue typing. We're still waiting on the DNA results, but it looks pretty conclusive."

"Jesus Christ," repeated Mulder softly.

"Who would do such a thing? And why?"

Skinner frowned.

"That's why I've allowed your involvement in this case. You will fly out to Ohio on the first available flight. Scully, I want you to take a look at the...the body. See if the pathologist missed anything. I don't believe I need to tell you that this investigation is to move ahead with the utmost urgency. We are all under a tremendous pressure from the DA's office to come up with a feasible explanation on this one, and I feel that you two are best placed to head up the investigation. You will have the full co- operation of both the local PD and the field office down there. Use every resource available to you. I want this bastard caught."

Both agents nodded their affirmation, but before they could rise to their feet, Skinner waved a hand at them wearily.

"There's something I haven't apprised you of, Agents. Something not contained in the file..."

He sighed, forcing the words out.

"This morning I received word from the Ohio office. Last night...last night another child was taken."

 

Continued part 3


	4. Chapter 4

Brackenhurst Learning Facility for Extraordinary Children, Cleveland, Ohio. May 3rd 1999 8:05pm

Scully allowed her gaze to settle on the scenery that unfolded before her through the open side window of their standard Taurus rental. Even though dusk had settled over the school grounds, lending a muted grey to the lawns and flower beds that bordered the sweeping driveway, the beauty of the surroundings was not lost on her.

As far as the eye could see, the place was immaculate. From the manicured lawns and flower beds, to the imposing, well established redwoods, not a leaf or a blade of grass out of place, and below them, the school itself loomed like a sentry.

More suited to an English estate, it was built to resemble an 18th century manor house, complete with stone turrets at each corner and leaded windows. A huge studded oak door completed the picture, and as they grew ever closer, Scully could just make out the gothic type bell pull situated just to the left of the door.

The whole place exuded wealth and privilege, a type of atmosphere usually reserved for the very best private schools in the country, and yet she knew this not to be the case here.

After hooking up her ever present laptop during their plane ride over, Scully had apprised Mulder of the school's history. Owned and operated by Julia Brackenhurst, it had been built a scant four years ago for the purpose of - as the literature on the internet had told her - to nurture, protect and develop the brightest stars in America.

The school boasted some of the finest facilities in the world, and was fast becoming renowned for its teaching abilities, and also its unique approach to the often perplexing problems that gifted children brought with them. Social standing, wealth or position were not listed amongst the criteria required to gain a place here. Children were accepted solely on their abilities.

No fees were required for admission and Scully had learned that the school was funded by a group of unspecified benefactors and from Julia Brackenhursts’ personal fortune.

In fact, it had seemed almost too good to be true.

One thing, though, had struck her as odd. The school accepted only girls. No boys were ever accepted, regardless of their abilities or gifts.

The teaching staff was made up exclusively of women, as was the ground staff, kitchen staff and housekeeping staff.

When Scully had questioned this, Mulder had merely shrugged, though she could see that he was none the wiser as to why this would be the case.

She sighed and turned her attention back to her partner, who was gently drawing the car to a halt in front of the entrance to the school.

"Some place huh?" he commented idly. "Looks more like a hotel than a school."

Scully gathered together the loose papers on her lap and stuffed them back in to her briefcase.

"What say we go check out the facilities?"

Together, they exited the car and walked without speaking up the wide stone steps that led to the door. 

Mulder eyed the tasselled bell pull suspiciously.

"Are we supposed to ring that or what?"

Scully glanced at the door's surface. Up close, she could fully appreciate the intricate carvings that were etched into the dark oak. Mostly Bible scenes and flowers, they were breathtaking in their beauty and awe-inspiring in their complexity, their surface unmarred by anything even vaguely resembling a door knob.

Scully raised her eyebrows and grasped the tasselled rope firmly in her small hand.

"I don't think we have much of a choice in the matter."

Far away, muffled through the thickness of wood, they heard the chiming of a bell which corresponded to Scully's release on the rope, and for a wild second Mulder braced himself for the door swinging open with a typical B movie creak, a disembodied head peering through the gap. Igor's voice...

Come innnnnnnnnnnnn

And then, another image manifested itself in his mind.

The image of a smiling child. Blood, bone and tissue.

Chewed up and spit out.

The beginnings of a smile died abruptly on Mulders face as he remembered their reasons for being here at all.

"Think they heard us?" he asked as seconds passed and the door remained firmly shut.

Scully shrugged and reached once more for the pull, but she dropped her hand back down to her side as they heard the sound of a bolt being shot back from its housing. 

The door opened a fraction, revealing the face of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed child. Not more than thirteen years old, she smiled uncertainly.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

Scully brought her identification out of her jacket pocket and held it in front of the child.

"Agents Scully and Mulder. F.B.I. We're here to see..."

The child swung the door open wide, revealing herself fully for the first time, and finished Scully's sentence for her. 

"Miss Brackenhurst. She said you were coming. Please come in."

"Thank you."

The child held out a hand to Scully, who, after an uneasy glance toward her partner, took it uncertainly. 

"My name is Felicia Slabbert. I'm pleased to meet you, Agent Scully."

Scully smiled.

"How did you know I was Agent Scully?"

Felicia shrugged.

"Usually when people introduce themselves as a pair, they naturally precede their partner's name with that of their own. As humans we are naturally predisposed to regard ourselves as the Alpha in any relationship. You made the introduction and therefore you must be Agent Scully. And besides..."

Her eyes twinkled, and Scully saw the child that lurked beneath the intelligence.

"...I read your badge"

Beside her Mulder snorted appreciatively, and Felicia turned her attention toward him.

Knowing somehow that it was expected of him, he also held out a hand to the child in front of him. His large frame towered over her, but she seemed neither intimidated nor in any way embarrassed, allowing his huge hand to engulf her tiny one.

"Agent Mulder. It's a pleasure to know you too."

She locked eyes with him and gave him a stare that sent a bolt of energy through his body. It seemed like she was staring directly into his soul. He had always thought that Scully had the most expressive eyes he had ever seen, or at least when she allowed him to see that far, but the child below him radiated an energy he had rarely encountered. It was as though she had stripped away the layers within him to see through to his very core, weighing him up in her mind, evaluating him...liking what she saw.

I'm imagining this. She's just a kid, for chrissake.

And then, she dropped her hand from his and the connection was broken.

Leaving a hollow feeling in his gut. A sense of un- fulfilment.

"Agent Mulder? Are you all right?"

Aware of Scully's eyes on him, Mulder forced a smile to his face.

"I'm fine. It was a long journey, that's all," he offered weakly.

 

Felicia nodded, all too aware of the effect she was having on him but choosing to ignore it. She'd have to be careful now. Feigning innocence, she directed the two agents toward a room set just off the imposing oak-panelled lobby.

"If you would like to make yourselves comfortable in the sitting room, Miss Brackenhurst will be along shortly. The room has a range of refreshments. Please help yourselves."

Mulder followed her with his eyes as she glided toward the curved staircase set in the centre of the hardwood floor, watching her until she disappeared from view, unable to tear his gaze away until he felt Scully's hand on his arm, bringing him back.

"Mulder? What the hell was that all about?"

Her tone was hushed, and despite her words he could detect no hint of anger in her tone. 

Confusion yes, but no anger.

She knew.

"You saw it too, huh?"  
Scully released her hold on him.

"Saw it? Mulder, she was practically undressing you with her eyes. It was bordering on pornographic."

He bit his lip thoughtfully as he tried to make sense of what they had both just witnessed. 

"Maybe you got your answer, Scully."

"Answer? To what?"

"As to why there are no boys here."

Scully regarded him thoughtfully; unsure as to whether he was expecting a response. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she would have chastised him for letting his overactive imagination get the better of him, but the fact remained that she had seen it. The way the girl...the child had gazed at her partner had shocked her to the core.

She sucked in her bottom lip, simultaneously pushing a strand of hair away from her face. Yes, the child's behaviour had disturbed her on several levels...but there were more important things to focus on right now.

"C'mon, Mulder. We'd better do as directed."

Mulder followed her lead and together they entered the room that Felicia had described as a lounge.

He whistled softly as he took in the richness of the furnishings. From the velvet flock wall coverings to the fine crystal adorning polished mahogany occasional tables, nothing was out of place. It was as if the room had fallen straight out from between the pages of Country Life magazine.

He couldn't help but compare the surroundings to those of his own recollections of childhood learning. Scuffed linoleum and battered Formica tables would have no place here. 

Scully looked almost as uncomfortable as he felt, but as was usually the case, she adapted much more quickly, and after allowing her eyes to roam the opulent surroundings, settled herself gracefully into the depths of an overstuffed damask covered sofa.

Mulder remained standing, uncomfortably aware of the fact that he lacked Scully's ability to simply blend in, and from his vantage point got the first view of Julia Brackenhurst as she entered the room.

From Scully's findings on the Internet, he had expected the proprietor of this unusual school to be a mature woman - aged even - small in stature with white hair piled atop her head, maybe even a dowagers' hump. It took less than a second for those images to be forever shattered into a million pieces.

Julia Brackenhurst, clad in black jeans and a soft, baby blue lambs wool sweater, white blonde hair cascading unfettered to just below her shoulder blades, face as yet unlined by age, strode purposefully towards him and extended a hand.

"Agent Mulder, I presume."

Mulder nodded, and inclined his head toward Scully, who had risen to her feet as soon as the woman had entered.

"My partner, Dana Scully."

Julia turned and smiled uncertainly.

"Thank you for coming. Won't you please have a seat?"

She perched on the couch opposite Scully. Mulder took the chair from which he was able to see both women and beyond them through to the still open door, and crossed one long leg over his knee. For a few moments, no one spoke, and then Scully leaned in closer.

"Miss Brackenhurst, my partner and I were asked to come down here to assist in the investigation pertaining to the alleged abduction and murder of Elizabeth Armstrong. We haven't been given very much information as to why she might have been taken - or who would have motive to do such a thing. Were you here the night she was taken?"

Julia closed her eyes briefly, as though dispelling a particularly unpleasant memory.

"I already told the police. No, I wasn't. I was attending a seminar out of state. New York City to be exact. I received a call from Mary Price, the house mother, and returned immediately. To begin with, we simply thought that she'd run away."

Mulders eyes widened slightly at her words.

"Run away?" he asked. "Why would you think that? Was she not happy here?"

"Lilly?" Julia laughed sadly. "Lilly wasn't what you would call a happy child, Agent Mulder. It was a part of the reason she was accepted here. As is often the case with gifted children she was misunderstood, frustrated, disruptive, and she used her intelligence to act out. A lot. She never felt a part of life here. She never felt a part of life at home. One of life's loners. When she went missing, the logical assumption was that she'd decided to see if she could find a place where she did belong..."

Her voice trembled. "Just look at what she found instead."

Scully softened her voice, all too aware, despite her obvious attempts to hide it, of the young woman's tenuous emotional state.

"Before she disappeared, did you notice anyone or anything unusual? Did you experience anything, anything at all out of the ordinary around the building or the grounds that would give you cause to be suspicious?"

"No. No, I already told the police that too. Everything was normal...except with Lilly herself."

"Oh? In what way?"

Julia frowned.

"As I said, she wasn't an easy child. But this was...this was different. We caught her a couple of times wandering the corridors at night. She would swear the next day that she had been sleepwalking, even when she knew that we couldn't possibly believe her. Denying things she had said or done when we confronted her during her little nocturnal escapades, refusing to back down. It settled down after a few nights and to be honest, we thought no more about it. Children of that age, especially those as gifted as Lilly, are prone to fabrication. We put it down to being an unfortunate phase she'd grown tired of..."  
Mulder leaned forward as her voice trailed off, knowing that there was more to come.

"And?" he prompted.

"...and then the nightmares started. She would wake up screaming, screaming that He was coming after her, that she'd been bad...that...oh, God!"

Scully's eyes flickered to connect with her partner's even as a shiver worked its way down her back. Julia Brackenhurst's tone had gone from coolly collected to verging on hysteria in a matter of seconds, and she gently placed a hand on the distraught woman's arm, attempting to calm her with her touch.

"It's okay. Take your time."

Mulder watched fascinated as his partner unleashed her magic. He had been on the receiving end of it too many times to not know what he was seeing. Scully had the unique ability to defuse the most inflammatory situations merely by dropping her tone of voice an octave and offering a simple touch.

In response, Julia's breathing slowed to a rate where she was able to force the rest of the sentence out.

"She knew that he was going to kill her. She knew that she was going to die...and she said that there'd be others."

Continued Part 4


	5. Chapter 5

Brackenhurst Learning Facility for Extraordinary Children Cleveland, Ohio May 3rd 1999. 8:35pm

Scully battled her expression for as long as she could, knowing instinctively that Mulders eyes were on her. 

In the six plus years they had been working together, she had gained a certain measure of open-mindedness toward what she had seen and experienced, and slowly, slowly, her grip on the rationale of science was being eroded.

Despite that, though, Dana Scully the pragmatist, the scientist still hovered in the background, ready to pounce, to offer a practical solution to whatever madness was on the agenda that week.

And then she felt it. The merest pull on the left side of her face as her eyebrow made its slow ascent into incredulity. A reaction totally beyond her control and an expression she knew her partner could read like a book.

What is that look, Scully?

I'd have thought that after five years you'd know exactly what that look is, Mulder.

A look of incredulous disbelief. 

Sarcasm. 

The patented Dana Scully look. 

And she hated it.

Hated to be so predictable in front of her partner.

Swallowing, she rearranged her features into their usual neutrally interested expression.

"Miss Brackenhurst, you say that Elisabeth...Lilly knew that she was going to die? That she saw it in her dreams?"

Julia raised a tear-streaked face to regard the agent in front of her.

"I don't know what I'm saying really. I know how crazy it sounds. I'm not a stupid woman, Agent Scully. I know the difference between fantasy and reality, and at the time, as I said, we.... I chalked it up to an overactive imagination at work."

She dropped her head and studied her hands. 

"Now, after all that's happened, I'm not so sure. I just want it to stop."

Mulder coughed slightly, as if to remind the two women of his presence.

"What about the child who's missing now?"

His eidetic memory searched for a second through the dark recesses of his brain. 

"Deborah Hollis? Did she experience the same nightmares?"

Julia shook her head. 

"No. If anything she slept deeply. One of those kids always first to bed and last up in the morning. For a while it worried us, but she was fine during the day, so we put it down to a growing child needing to regain her energy. Debby was...is a unique child in many respects."

"How so?"

Julia smiled slightly. 

"She was possibly the most precocious child we have ever had here. Very confident. Outgoing. Well liked amongst her peers. Her IQ registers her at genius level. She loves to learn. But at the same time she is very much a little girl. The kind of child you just want to be with..."

She shook her head as tears once again threatened to spill from her cool grey eyes.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry. I just can't believe this is happening. Not here, not anywhere."

Mulder glanced across at Scully, sending an unspoken message to his partner.

This is getting us nowhere.

The merest nod from her and Mulder rose to his feet.

"Can you show us the rooms they slept in?"

His words seemed to allow Julia to regain at least some of her lost composure, and she swiped a hand over her face, smearing the tears that still lingered on her cheeks.

"Of course. I'm sorry. Please follow me."

 

XXXX

 

Scully felt as though she had stepped into one of those schoolgirl novels of her childhood. Complete with midnight feasts and ghost stories. 

The dorm was large, airy. Wood panelled with colourful scatter rugs strewn carelessly across its surface.

 

Six small beds. Pine headboards. Each sporting a different colored comforter and various assortments of plush toys. A small night stand stood by each bed. A lamp to match the comforter for late night reading by insomniac mini-geniuses. 

A nice room. 

A safe room. 

A room where little girls could giggle into the night before falling into sweet childhood slumber.

A room where at least one of those little girls had been ripped from her dreams and taken to...to...

Scully wasn't sure. Not yet. But it would come. 

Mulder was prowling the area, like a tiger locked in a cage and Scully could almost see the gears whirring in his head as he tried to get a feel for his surroundings. 

It had taken her a long time to feel comfortable with her partner's strange submersion into a crime scene. To watch him sink into the horror was both fascinating and frightening.

Mulder had lived in dark places for most of his life, and recently Scully had begun to wonder how much more he could take before one day the horror came back to haunt him. To haunt them. 

 

Every crime, every death, seemed to take a greater toll on him, and his recovery time had gone from a few hours to a couple of days. During those times, she would leave him alone, having learned long ago that only Mulder could rid himself of the dark places. 

Her help was neither needed nor appreciated despite her best efforts.

"Is this room still in use?"

He had paused by one of the beds, this one a stark contrast to the others. No brightly coloured comforter here. Only a striped mattress. Brand new and unused.

Julia shook her head. 

"No. We closed it immediately after...after Lilly was found. The girls who slept here were moved into other dorms. It wasn't difficult to find the space. Over half of the students have already been removed by their parents. I don't blame them for being scared. We're all scared."

"And the child who found the body?"

Mulder winced at the word, and immediately wished he could pull it back. Bodies were found in abandoned warehouses, by fast-running rivers, in burnt-out vehicles. Not a word he enjoyed linking to bright-eyed nine year olds with swinging pigtails.

Only he seemed to have a reaction to the word, though. 

He shivered. 

"It was Debby wasn't it?"

Scully started. She was used to Mulders leaps of logic, although how he had arrived at that conclusion was a mystery. The name of the child had not been included in the initial reports, although there was a transcript of the psychologist-aided interview. She had assumed that due to the age of the child, privacy had been respected.

"Mulder?"

He heard the question in her tone and shrugged, indicating to her that his hunch was just that. A hunch.

A correct hunch.

Julia wrapped her arms protectively across her chest. 

"Yes. She was the one. I thought you would know that."

Mulder nodded curtly and Scully mentally translated the nod.

Interview over.

Information gathered.

Time to leave.

"Thank you for your time, Miss Brackenhurst."

She indicated Mulder who was staring intently at the colourful mobile that hung from the ceiling above Lilly's bed.

"We'll be in touch."

"Can I take this?"

Julia followed his finger with her eyes as it came to rest on the tasselled edges of the mobile. Feeling suddenly that she should refuse, but unable to generate a good reason for doing so. Just a lingering protectiveness over the dead child's' possessions. God knows, she hadn't had many and Julia felt like she was violating the child's trust by allowing the last reminder of her to be removed from the room.

"I don't know...I don't think..."

Scully had no idea what was going on in her partner's mind, but one look at the burning intensity in his eyes caused her to step forward and lay a silencing hand on Julia's arm.

"We won't damage it. As soon as we're done we'll return it to you."

Julia looked from one to other, confusion evident, and then she merely shrugged.

"Certainly. If you think it's relevant to your investigation."

"Thank you."

Carefully, Mulder reached up and unhooked the mobile from its fixing. He gazed at it almost reverently, tracing one long finger across the intricate pattern of coloured thread and beads.

He locked eyes with Scully. 

"We should go."

Turning, he followed Julia Brackenhurst toward the exit, but paused long enough to pull Scully closer to him, leaning slightly so his words would be only heard by her. She felt his breath tickle her neck as the whisper reached her, hearing the words but not really understanding.

"Dreamcatcher."

She frowned, indicating the information meant little to her, but Mulder simply allowed his hand to settle in the centre of her back as he guided her gently forward toward the door. The pressure of his fingers told her all she needed to know.

Not now. I'll explain when we're out of here.

Continued part 5


	6. Chapter 6

8:57p.m.

The girls watched from their positions, half hidden behind the armoire which graced the corner of the building's vestibule, as the two agents descended the curved wooden stairway.

The older of the two girls narrowed her eyes at the sight of Mulders hand resting against his partner's back. It seemed, to the casual observer, to be there simply to guide, to reassure her of his continued presence, but to her it seemed to suggest so much more. More a subconscious act of implicit protection that was both expected and enjoyed by his partner. She did not ask him for it, but didn't seek to push him away either.

"What do you see, Fliss?"

Felicia worked her pretty face up into a scowl and nudged her companion sharply in the ribs.

"Sshhhhh, stupid! They'll hear us. I'll tell you in a minute."

Beside her, the younger girl returned the scowl, rubbing her ribs exaggeratedly even as she craned her neck in an attempt to get a better view. For the time being, Felicia ignored the movement beside her, focusing her attention on the scene before her. From their vantage point it was difficult to see much of anything. Hearing was almost impossible. Murmured words from the two agents. Miss Brackenhurst's defeated posture as she showed them to the door. 

Stupid woman. She just doesn't see what's going on here.

But the two agents with her?

Felicia wasn't sure. The female agent Scully wasn't buying it. 

None of it.

Felicia had sensed a certain measure of aloofness in the way the woman had looked at her earlier. A coldness that she wrapped around herself like a blanket, designed to keep everyone out, even the man beside her. She had immediately discarded her as a potential confidante.

But Mulder...now he was different all together. More willing to believe. More willing to submerge himself in the horror that plagued her young life. In the scant few moments he had allowed her to look deep inside him, he had told her all she needed to know. He reminded her in a lot of ways of her Father...the way he was...

before...

*Flames, burning, forcing her back, gasping for air as his hand reached out toward her, pleading, beseeching her to not leave him in the hell they had created for themselves...and her voice rising in intensity until it was all she heard....Daddddeeeeeeee...*

"Fliss?"

Whispered.

No response.

The child tried again. More urgent this time. Hissed almost.

"Fliss."

Felicia forced her mind back to the present, feeling for the first time the urgent pull on her sleeve as her companion demanded attention.

"What?!...I told you to keep quiet, didn't I?"

"But Fliss, look. Look at what he has..."

The biting reproach died in Felicia's throat as she realized just what it was that Mulder held loosely in his hand. During his descent down the stairs his body had been half hidden by Julia, and Felicia had been too fixated on the position of his left hand to really take much notice of what the right one was doing, and suddenly a wave of nausea washed over her. The sudden rush of bile in the back of her throat prompted her to slam her fragile body back against the wall, no longer heeding potential discovery. 

She shook her head numbly.

*No, Daddy, no, please say it's no. Please don't let him take it. He can't take it. He can't. Tell me what to do.*

Tears had pooled from deep within her eyes, and were even now spilling down her pale cheeks, but she was unaware of anything other than the feel of the solid panelling against her shoulders as she silently twisted her head from side to side in an expression of anguished suffering.

Why aren't you here for me, Daddy? Why did you leave me to face this on my own? I'm not strong enough or wise enough to do it. Tell me what to do. Please tell me what to do...

She was dimly aware of a high-pitched scream, the sound coming from far away, reverberating around her head like an echo of things past, making her legs fold out from beneath her as the floor rushed up to meet her. Taking her once again into nothingness.

To sleep, to sleep, perchance to dream...

 

XXXX

 

"What the hell?"

Mulder spun around, his hand automatically reaching for the high-powered automatic weapon secured at his side, releasing it from its leather casing in one fluid, practiced movement.

Beside him, Scully mirrored his movements, her whole body tensing as she identified the sound of screaming.

A child screaming. Close by.

The acoustics of the vestibule made it difficult to determine just what direction the sound was coming from, echoing and bouncing as it did off the bare flooring, and beside her Mulder closed his eyes for the merest of seconds to attune his senses more acutely.

An old Academy trick.

One that actually worked.

"Over there." 

His eyes snapped open and he gestured toward the far corner of the room.

Scully held up one hand, palm facing toward Julia Brackenhurst, a silent direction that she stay put. That they would handle this.

Attuned as they were to each other's methods of working meant they had no need of verbal communication as they separated, each taking a separate path toward the armoire that graced the dark corner. Halfway there the screaming stopped abruptly, only to be replaced with another sound. The unmistakable hitching of a child, trying desperately not to cry.

Mulder lowered his weapon and continued forward. Safe in the knowledge that Scully would cover him should the need arise, sending up a silent prayer as he did so that nothing lay in that dark corner that would plague his dreams for the next few nights. 

He didn't need help in that department.

Not now. 

Not ever.

"Federal Agent. Identify yourself."

Even as he spoke the words he was aware that he would look pretty stupid if the corner housed nothing more threatening than a frightened child. 

But then again...

*Chewed up and spit out*.

He thumbed the safety off the gun.

"Who's back there? Show yourself."

Still nothing. 

Mulder felt a tension knot give in the centre of his shoulders. He could almost hear the crack, but still he remained focused, eyes never wavering, ever aware of the potential dangers.

"I will count to three. Now show yourself. One,...two,..."

"Mulder, look."

His eyes dropped to follow his partner's gaze, and then he saw it, almost hidden in the gloom: a child-sized hand, fingers curling cautiously around the side of the armoire. A hand that was followed moments later by a face, tear-streaked, eyes wide, terrified beyond belief. All of seven years old. Maybe younger.

"Don't shoot me."

Something way down in Mulders heart cracked into a million pieces as the child's terrified, whispered plea reached his ears, and he traded horrified glances with his partner.

Way to go, Mulder. 

Julia rushed forward, almost pushing Scully out the way in her haste to reach the child.

"Gina honey what is it? Why are you hiding back there?"

She dropped to her knees and opened her arms as Gina bolted into them. The child's tears began afresh, and for a while there was nothing Julia could do but rock the child gently against her, waiting for Gina's violent trembling to subside enough for her to speak.

Mulder seemed to have lost the ability to move as he watched the scene unfold before him, the sight of the sobbing child transfixed him, and it was left to Scully to move forward to check the cramped space behind the armoire.

Nothing.

Meanwhile, Julia's soothing magic was having at least some small effect on the child, and she disentangled her from within the confines of her arms, gently pushing Gina back a step until the child was forced to meet her eyes.

"What's wrong, sweetie? Did something scare you? Is that why you screamed?"

A shake of a tousled head.

"It wasn't me who screamed, Miss Brackenhurst...it wasn't...honest it wasn't."

"But Gina, honey, we heard you."

"NO!"

Gina stepped back from the woman who wasn't allowing her the time to say what she had to say and turned beseeching eyes toward Scully.

Julia stretched out a hand towards the child, forcing her to turn back to her. 

"Gina, honey, look at me. We heard ..."

"NO! It wasn't me. It was Fliss. She screamed and screamed and screamed..."

Mulder squatted on his haunches and regarded the child thoughtfully.  
"Why did Fliss scream, Gina? Can you tell me?"

His words were soft, almost indiscernible to Scully standing less than two feet away. The child's response, though, was completely different, as her high-pitched tones became an ear-splitting scream as she clenched her fists by her side.

"BECAUSE HE TOOK HER! HE TOOK HER AWAY! AND I TRIED TO STOP HIM AND I COULDN'T I COULDN'T I COULDN'T I COULDN'T..."

Mulder reached out then and clamped his hands around Gina's thin arms, pulling her towards him, allowing her to burrow her small face against his chest. Her screams became muffled as he wrapped his arms protectively around her, and while her words became indiscernible, the wailing did not.

Julia stumbled to her feet, her hand over her mouth in an unconscious reaction to the disintegrating child in front of her. She watched with wide, shocked eyes as Mulder raised his head slightly. His expression mirrored Scully's own.

What the hell is going on here?

Taking care to keep his tone absolutely neutral so as not to frighten the child even more, he spoke, directing his words to his partner.

"I think maybe we need an ambulance"

Continued part 6


	7. Chapter 7

St Mary's Hospital. May 4th 1999 1:07am Visitor's room.

"You look tired."

Scully raised her arms wearily and stretched them above her head, wincing at the audible cracking sound that came from deep within her shoulders.

"I'm fine," she offered by way of reassurance. "Just been a long day, that's all..."

As if to contradict her words, she trailed off as the end of the sentence was swallowed up by a yawn that she just couldn't suppress.

Mulder grinned across at her.

"Want some caffeine, Agent Scully? You look like you could use some."

"No, it's OK." 

She got to her feet. 

"I'll get it. I could use the walk. Baseball lessons aside, my muscles are still protesting from too much inactivity. I'll see if I can find anything out while I'm gone."

 

On leaving the relative peace and quiet of the room, Scully was surprised to see the corridor beyond teeming with activity. She had spent a lot of time around hospitals, both as a doctor and as a patient, and in her experience even hospitals quietened sometimes.

Not so here apparently.

But then, she reminded herself, it was a small hospital, probably serving an area far bigger than its capabilities. Thankfully, though, its lack of facilities hadn't seemed to detract from the care given to little Gina Robik when she was brought through to the ER. She had been assessed, treated and found a bed up in the children's ward within an hour.

But then again, maybe the presence of two FBI Agents had speeded up the process somewhat, Scully reflected. Or maybe it was because it was such an unusual case.

By the time the ambulance had arrived at Brackenhurst, Gina had lapsed into what Scully could only guess was some kind of catatonic shock. In the space of ten minutes, the child's breathing had become shallow, her pulse rate sluggish. 

Despite everyone's best efforts she had remained totally unresponsive to external stimuli, although her eyes had remained open in an expression of sheer terror.

Scully had never seen anything like it before, although in medical school she had read about cases of so-called waking comas, where the mind shuts down to avoid facing up to events beyond its normal rational capabilities.

Usually, though, a clear cause could be found, especially in children. She'd read about children who had witnessed the death of a parent withdraw into themselves, shutting out the world around them until some inner voice told them it was OK to come out again.

But there were usually tangible reasons.

Scully frowned.

What was Gina's reason?

What had she seen in that room that would cause her to close down like this? Obviously it was tied in with the disappearance of Felicia Slabbert, but Mulder had ordered a thorough search of the building. Forensics teams had been called in, their investigation centering around the area where Gina had been found. Their best efforts, though, had revealed nothing aside from the obvious - that the girl was gone.

There was no evidence of any kind to suggest that a third party had been involved, and Scully knew that her partner had already ruled out any misplaced kidnapping theories.

But if not kidnapping, then what?

The child had seen something. 

Of that there was no doubt, but until the girl decided to join them back in the real world, Scully suspected that the answers would remain just out of their reach. It was anyone's guess how long that might take. Hours, days, months, years even. There was just no way of knowing.

 

Deep in thought, Scully didn't notice the figure coming toward her until it was too late, and before she could stop her forward momentum, they collided.

"Shit!"

She recognized the voice as belonging to the young doctor who had ministered to Gina hours before. He had been harried then. Now he seemed on the verge of hysteria.

Scully understood only too well the pressures heaped upon medical professionals and she didn't even flinch at his choice of greeting. Besides, she *had* collided with the man after all.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going." 

She held out her hand in apology. 

"Special Agent Dana Scully. You met my partner earlier, I believe."

Recognition washed over the man's features, softening them slightly. 

"Yes, Agent Scully. I remember. You and your partner brought the little girl in, right? I'm sorry for seeming a little brusque. It's been kinda crazy here tonight."

Scully waved away his apologies. 

"It's fine, really. I understand how busy you must be. But since you're here, can you tell me, is there any change?"

He shook his head.

"I wish I could give you some good news, Agent Scully. But no. I've just been up there, in fact. I've seen this kind of thing before. Only thing we can do is keep her as comfortable as possible and hope that she'll come out of it. We've called her parents. They'll be here tomorrow. Often just the sound of familiar voices can help break through the barriers. For now, though, the best thing we can do is allow her to rest. She's finally sleeping. I don't expect her to wake before morning."

He cocked his head on one side, contemplating the woman before him. 

"Speaking of which, you look like you could use some yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"Some sleep. To be perfectly honest, if I'd realized you were still here I'd have had one of the nurses send you home hours ago. But like I said, it's been kinda crazy. Best thing you could do would be to go check into a motel somewhere and call us in the morning. I have numbers of a couple of decent places if you need them."

Scully summoned up a tired smile, recognizing that he was just being polite. That he had better things to do than make small talk with her about local motels.

"No. Thank you. It's fine. My partner has it all arranged already. But I do think I'll take your advice. You have our numbers, right?"

He nodded curtly. 

"Of course. I'll ensure someone calls you if there's the slightest change. Goodnight, Agent Scully."

She watched as he continued down the hallway, his white coat billowing behind him until he was swallowed up by the dozens of other medical personnel and patients milling around the enclosed space. It suddenly felt too hot, and for a second everything seemed to turn liquid as she swayed slightly on her feet, the figures before her seeming to meld into one as they blurred and tumbled together. Clutching blindly at a convenient vending machine, Scully opened and closed her eyes rapidly, blinking until her vision returned to normal.

God, I must be tired.

Time to collect her partner and call it a night.

Continued part 7


	8. Chapter 8

Eeazy Sleep Motel. Cleveland Ohio. May 4th 1999 1:52a.m.

They spent the journey back from the hospital in silence and Mulder suspected that their lack of communication had less to do with tiredness and everything to do with the perplexing nature of the case.

Certainly he had spent the drive formulating and dismissing several different theories as to what had happened earlier that evening.

And truthfully, he had no clue. It was rare for him to be completely stumped by a case. He hadn't been christened with the nickname Spooky for nothing. 

Usually he could rely on intuition to guide him through the tangled web that so often made up an X-File. Tonight though, this same intuition had all but deserted him.

A slight movement beside him, caught in the corner of his eye, prompted him to twist his head toward his partner.

Shit, she looks tired.

It had been a long day for them both, sure, but aside from when she had been sick, he couldn't remember seeing her look so exhausted before. Her face was pale, lit by the ghostly glow emanating from the illuminated dashboard, and the carefully applied make-up of the morning had all but disappeared. It leant her a vulnerable, almost childlike air. It also allowed him to see the dark shadows underneath her eyes. Shadows that contrasted sharply against the creamy, white skin.

It worried him more than he would ever admit. This case, horrific as it already was, would be doubly hard for her to deal with in light of the lingering wounds she carried close to her heart. She never told him as such, but it wasn't hard for him to appreciate that she was still grieving for Emily.

They never talked about it. He wasn't sure that she talked with anyone. It wasn't Scully's way to admit need. Not about anything. And certainly not to him.

He had caught her unawares once in the office they shared.

He had left for the day, needing to gather some information pertaining to a case they were working on. Mind elsewhere, he had reached his car only to discover that he had left his keys atop the desk where he had casually tossed them earlier in the day.

Made his way quickly back to the office, only to freeze in the half open doorway when he saw her. Her back was to him, shoulders shaking slightly as she sobbed silently. She was holding a photograph in her hand, tracing her finger over its surface.

Mulder hadn't been able to make out the picture upon it. He hadn't needed to.

Emily.

Scully's daughter. Known for such a short time before she was taken from her, but long enough for Scully to love her. 

Long enough for her to mourn her passing.

Ignoring the need that ached within him to enter the office and take her in his arms, knowing that it wasn't what she wanted, he had pivoted and walked away, out of the building and straight to the nearest bar. He hadn't moved until the bartender had begun to pointedly sweep the floor around his feet, signalling that it was time for Mulder to get the hell out so he could close up for the night.

And now, looking across at her, he prayed that she wasn't reliving past horrors.

"You OK, Scully?

He watched as she rubbed a hand across her face, attempting to bring herself back to alertness.

"I'm fine. I'm just hoping you have some insight into all this, Mulder, because I sure as hell don't."

He didn't answer her. He didn't know what to say.

"Mulder?" she persisted.

He shrugged.

"The truth, Scully? I don't have a clue. Three missing girls. One who turns up looking like she's been thrown into a Cuisinart? A school that looks like it fell off the pages of Country Life magazine full of kids who make Stephen Hawking look ignorant? You tell me. Maybe I'm losing my touch."

 

Scully absorbed his words, struck suddenly by the defeat she heard in them. It wasn't like him. She was accustomed to hearing any number of outlandish theories spill from his lips. And although she saw it as her purpose in life to balance out those same theories with the voice of reason, she also knew that she relied on him to make sense out of the things they encountered.

More than he would ever know.

"What about this? You were going to explain it to me."

Mulder flicked his eyes away from the road and, for a second, settled them on the intricately woven framework of thread, beads and feathers.

"It's called a dreamcatcher. There are several Native American legends as to its purpose. I thought maybe it meant something. Now I'm not so sure."

Scully waited for him to continue, but after long seconds had passed uncomfortably between them, she delved a little deeper. 

"Care to share with me what that might be?"

Mulder sighed, the sound reaching her across the vast distance that seemed to separate them. She'd seen this before, seen her partner withdraw into himself when in the grip of a difficult case. 

The fact that she understood it, though, didn't necessarily mean she accepted it.

 

"It's a kind of good luck charm. Meant to protect its owner against bad dreams. Kind of a preventative measure...it's an age-old story. Passed through one generation to another..."

He trailed off as the lights of the motel came into view, and Scully waited until he'd piloted the car to a halt in front of the office before speaking again.

"I'd like to hear it."

Mulder froze, his hand halfway to the door release. 

"Hear what?"

"The legend."

"Of the Dreamcatcher?"

He sounded so incredulous that Scully almost laughed out loud. 

"That surprises you? C'mon Mulder, you've spent the last six years filling my head with alien abduction stories, prehistoric lake monsters, all manner of mutants and freaks of nature, and you're surprised that I would want to hear a simple Native American folk tale?"

Mulder gazed at her, as though trying to figure out whether she was sincere or not. 

Her asking to hear one of his outlandish tales was such an un-Scully-like thing to do that for a few moments he was literally rocked backwards. Ever conscious, though, that she might just be humouring him, he offered her one last get-out clause.

"It's late. You sure you want to hear it? It could wait till morning."

Scully smiled back at him softly.

"Call it a bedtime story then."

Mulder laughed in response as the moment lightened perceptibly for both of them. 

"Ahhhhh, Agent Scully, if you only knew how many times I've waited for you to say that..."

XXXX

 

Thirty minutes later Scully regarded her partner from behind the over-sized Styrofoam cup of steaming hot chocolate, which he had magically produced from behind his back.

He had, he'd informed her, taken a quick side trip across the street to the all- night diner. He proclaimed, solemnly enough to make her laugh, that no bedtime story was complete without chocolate and marshmallows.

It had made Scully feel like she was six years old again, evoking as it did sweet childhood memories of her mother coming into the bedroom she had shared with Melissa and sitting with them in the warmth of the room, as they listened wide-eyed to the stories she had told from her own childhood.

It seemed like only yesterday. 

A thousand childhood memories that she herself had hoped one day to share with her own daughter. Memories now that would remain forever locked in her heart, to wither and die with her when the time came. 

There would be no one to share them with. 

Not now.

Mulder had commandeered the ratty sofa across from the bed where she half lay, half slouched against the headboard.

They had both showered and changed for bed. She in comfortable satin pajamas, Mulder in cutoff sweats and an old T- shirt. There had maybe been a time, way back in the beginnings of their partnership, where Scully might have felt self-conscious to be seen by the man before her dressed so casually. Not anymore though. Now, sharing time and space with him before he retreated to his own room for the night had become almost commonplace. A way to allow the tensions of the day to flow from them before succumbing to sleep.

The Dreamcatcher lay at the bottom of the bed. 

Scully had allowed herself to properly examine it while Mulder had jogged across to the diner to fetch hot chocolate. The intricate patterns had captured her imagination, and she had found herself tracing a finger along its edge, closing her eyes, drifting off.

She had to admit that something about it had piqued her curiosity, aroused a need within her to fully understand what it stood for.

So she waited for Mulder to begin, once again closing her eyes as his words swirled around the small room. 

He spoke softly, like a father recounting a fairy tale to a small, sleepy child, and Scully allowed herself to float on their crest.

"Throughout history, nearly every person and culture has placed importance on the meanings of their dreams. Dreams are still a powerful force in many people's lives, particularly because of the meanings that can be found in them. I have a half dozen X-Files that speak of just such phenomena, Scully. How dreams can affect our lives, our relationships, our everyday actions. How by listening to and understanding what our dreams are telling us we can shape our very destiny."

He paused, and Scully was pretty sure he was sipping at his own hot chocolate, maybe getting his thoughts in order so as to tell the story in the way it was meant to be told.

"To the people of the Ojibway tribe, night visions, or dreams, were so important that children were not given a name until a person designated as the namer of that child had a dream of what name should be given. The namer would bestow a gift upon the child, a charm woven to look like a spider's web. Hung from a loop above the baby's cradle, this Dreamcatcher was believed to catch any bad dreams floating in the air, ensnaring them like a spider's web traps an insect. It was believed that only good dreams could pass through the hole in the centre of the web, sliding down the feather at the bottom to fall into the baby's head. The bad dreams couldn't navigate the web, and would hang there, suspended until the first rays of morning sunlight burned them away."

Scully opened her eyes and regarded her partner through hooded lids. 

"Sounds like something you could use. Do you think they work? The Dreamcatchers I mean?"

Mulder shrugged. 

"Maybe. If nothing else, you yourself know how powerful the act of suggestion can be. Call it superstition if you will. Good magic. Whatever. I think if the user believes it will protect their dreams, then it will. Much like the modern day version of a placebo. Believe in something strongly enough and it becomes a kind of truth."

He was silent then, dropping his eyes from hers, and something inside Scully cracked as she read his expression. 

Mulder had spent most of his life desperately wanting to believe. 

Steadfastly refusing to give up the belief, even in the face of ridicule, that he would one day be reunited with his sister. It was a hope he clung to as if for life itself. 

His own version of a Dreamcatcher and just as elusive.

"Mulder..."

He shook his head wearily and rose to his feet. 

"It's late. You're tired and we have an early start. I should let you sleep."

*Don't go*.

"What?" 

He stopped in his tracks as though struck. Had she just said what he thought she'd said? He hadn't heard her exactly, or at least not in any traditional sense. But her words had reached him as surely as if she had whispered them directly in his ear.

"Stay. Please."

She looked as confused as he did, as though she didn't know how to proceed. 

Sitting up in the oversize bed, she looked suddenly vulnerable, unsure of herself, of what was real. But her expression cleared again, the confusion replaced with a kind of peaceful clarity. The same expression he had seen fleetingly cross her face that night at the park, and without hesitation, he headed toward the bed, waiting as she scooted across to make space for him to join her.

His heart beat painfully as she reached out to him. Allowing him to snake an arm around her so that her body rested against him softly.

"Tell me the rest of the story, Mulder."

And so he began again, losing himself in long-ago tales of Indian women who could transform themselves magically into spiders, spinning webs to protect their fellow clansmen.

Of children protected for all eternity beneath the webs, sleeping peacefully beneath their silken strands as women bestowed upon them gifts of peace and tranquillity to carry them into dreams.

And long before he was finished, he felt Scully relax even further against him as she, too, was transported into gentle slumber.

Her breathing was deep, peaceful as she rested against him, and for a few minutes he luxuriated in the feel of her. He watched over her as she slept, trying to make the agonizing decision whether to stay or go.

Finally, he carefully planted a kiss on her brow, feeling the heat of her skin against his own lips, before reluctantly disentangling her from him and laying her gently against the pillows.

His movements were such that she didn't stir, not even when he reached down and smoothed a few strands of the rich, titian hair from where it rested against her porcelain skin.

Sweet dreams, Scully.

Continued part 8


	9. Chapter 9

Eeazy Sleep Motel Cleveland Ohio May 4th 3:59am

Scully was hot. 

Uncomfortably hot actually and through a haze of awakening senses she wondered if the air conditioning was malfunctioning. Sure, they had enjoyed an unseasonably warm spring this year, but the nights were still cool enough to warrant at least one blanket - if not two.

She flipped over on her back, groaning softly as she did so, feeling the tangled mass of sheets twisting around her legs. Her pajamas, usually so comfortable, felt like a lead weight against her burning skin, a fine sheen of perspiration making them cling unpleasantly to her.

"Wake up Dana...before Mom and Dad hear us..."

Melissa?

Scully burrowed her head further into the pillow, feeling it mould itself against her face. Murmuring softly, still half immersed in dreams.

"Go 'way Missy. It's too early..."

Her voice was soft, almost imperceptible.

Childlike.

Scully squeezed her eyes closed again. Determined that she should be permitted to drift back to sleep.

And then...

"Dana Katherine Scully, I expect you down here in five minutes. Don't make me come up there and fetch you!"

Scully's eyes flew open as she bolted upright, heart racing as the voice reverberated around her head.

MOM??

Blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Scully appraised her surroundings. Disoriented as she was by the unfamiliar room, it took her a couple of seconds to realize where she was.

Motel room. 

Ohio.

Case.

A dream.

Nothing more.

Scully allowed a small smile to curve her lips as she remembered her mother's patented method of persuading her less than enthusiastic daughter to drag herself out of bed in the mornings. It was a threat she used on all her children, but only Bill had ever pushed her to the limits, testing her resolve with typical boyish arrogance, wondering just what fate would befall him if he chose to ignore his mother's warning. 

She suspected that even her mother had not really thought it through enough to formulate a plan should one of her offspring not react to her calls. But the sight of Margaret Scully sweeping up the stairs, clutching the pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice in her hand, would remain in Scully's memory forever.

They had followed her, giggling in childlike wonderment. Melissa leading the way, Dana second with little Charlie tagging along behind, screaming with laughter as Margaret stomped into Bill's bedroom to deposit the pitcher's contents, pulp and all, squarely over his tousled head.

His eleven-year-old male pride had taken a severe battering that day. One which the whole family, but Dana in particular, had taken great delight in reminding him of throughout his teenage years.

None of the Scully offspring had ever been late down to breakfast again.

"I guessed that would work."

What?

 

Scully whirled around to confront the voice that came from somewhere to her right, reaching blindly for the gun she had left on the night stand as she did so.

It wasn't there.

Her hand groped wildly, connecting with nothing more substantial than fresh air, and her eyes widened as she realized that the dim outlines of the room's furniture had disappeared.

That the room had disappeared.

No longer tangled in sheets and blankets, she was surrounded by blackness. 

An oily, all-consuming darkness that pressed in on her, stealing away her breath, squeezing painfully at her chest.

She was conscious of being in an upright position, although she could feel no surface beneath her bare feet.

This is a dream. I've fallen asleep again.

"You're not asleep, Agent Scully...but you're not exactly awake either."

That voice again, familiar in ways she as yet couldn't fathom, reaching out to her through the blackness. 

A child's voice, but not a young child. There was no threat in the voice. In fact, it seemed devoid of any emotion at all.

And then, out of the darkness she began to make out the form of a young girl, a young girl who seemed vaguely recognizable as she came toward her. Hand outstretched before her, she seemed to float toward Scully.

Like an angel, she was surrounded by a hazy ethereal glow that shimmered softly, undulating with every step she took. Her long blonde hair lay softly against her shoulders, and as she came closer Scully could make out the china blue eyes, eyes that seemed to penetrate her soul as they searched the face of the woman before her.

Scully saw no danger in those eyes, just a deep, yearning sadness that pulled at her heart. 

The eyes of a child who has seen a lifetime of horror. 

The eyes of a survivor.

She was conscious that the heat in the room had disappeared, to be replaced with a delicious coolness that washed over her body, a breeze lifting her hair to waft gently around her face as the child came to a halt before her.

Scully allowed herself to breathe again. She knew, somehow, that there was nothing to fear from this child, and she accepted the touch of the cool fingers that tentatively reached for her own, holding onto them as she locked eyes with her.

"We knew you'd come."

Scully shook her head. 

"I don't understand. Why am I here?"

Her voice trailed off as Felicia Slabbert raised one slender finger until it rested against Scully's lips.

"Sssshhhhhh! Not here. He'll hear you. Come with me."

 

XXXX

 

Scully tilted her face up toward the deep blue sky, feeling the warmth of the sun's rays against her skin.

She was seated opposite Felicia atop a grassy knoll covered in impossibly large daisies that attracted the most beautiful butterflies Scully had ever seen. An array of dazzling, ever changing colours, the butterflies dipped and danced between them, seemingly unafraid of their presence.

Off in the distance Scully could just make out the ocean, its surface made up of a million sparkling diamonds that caught the sun's rays. It should, by rights, have hurt her eyes, made her squint against the brilliance, but she found she could settle her gaze upon it without fear of harm.

It was so peaceful, with only the sound of twittering birdsong to disturb the peace and quiet of this green paradise.

For a long while they didn't speak, and Scully was content just to drink in her surroundings. She didn't pretend to understand what was happening, how she had gotten here, and truthfully, it just didn't matter. 

The how and why were of no significance to her now.

"It's so beautiful," she ventured finally.

Felicia dropped her eyes to the ground. Busying her fingers, she plucked at a daisy, snapping its fragile stem with one deft action and holding it out toward Scully.

"Nothing is beautiful here, Agent Scully. It's all an illusion. Watch."

Scully watched in fascinated silence as the blossom in Felicia's outstretched hand began to writhe and twist against its confines. Its stem began to pulse sickeningly before it split halfway up, revealing a thick yellowish ooze that pooled against the girl's delicate fingers and dripped in glistening, squirming droplets to the ground. The grass beneath it withered instantly, curling and crisping as though touched by fire.

The blossom itself seemed to turn in upon itself, its centre splitting to reveal a nest of what Scully could only guess was the larval stage of some as yet unimagined insect. Nestled within the glistening folds of the flower, womb-like, protected by a thin layer of mucus, the insects turned lazily.

Feeling the bile rising in the back of her throat, Scully slammed her eyes shut.

This is a nightmare. This is not happening.

"Now look again, Dana."

And even while the ever present voice of reason was still screaming at her that this couldn't be so, Scully found herself acquiescing to the child's wishes. 

She opened her eyes and focused on the daisy.

So white it appeared almost silver in the sunlight.

Beautiful.

Perfect.

Fragrant.

Innocent.

"Take it. It's OK," Felicia urged. "This is how you are meant to see it. It's always like this in the beginning."

"The beginning?"

Scully allowed Felicia to hand her the flower. Its stem was almost velvety in texture. Warm and soft in her hand.

"I don't understand. Where are we?"

"In the Dreamcatcher. Snared in its web like insects. Captured for eternity or until the sun burns us away. This is how it captures us. It lures us away with promises of sunshine, of everlasting summer days. Of a land where all our dreams come true....But slowly, slowly it shows its true purpose."

Scully felt her heart beginning to beat painfully against her chest as she listened to the child's words. This couldn't be happening. This was just a dream, brought on by Mulders words. Words that had lulled her to sleep.

"Its true purpose?" 

Her voice sounded faint, far away, a faint buzzing in her ears making it difficult to think clearly.

Felicia's eyes filled with tears, which quickly began to make a glistening trail across her cheeks. 

"It steals our dreams and leaves us only with our deepest nightmares."

She pointed to an area out of Scully's immediate field of vision, and closed her eyes as the woman before her twisted to see what it was that had commanded her attention.

The tears ran faster, unchecked, as Felicia finally broke down completely, slamming her hands over her ears in a vain attempt to block out the sound of Scully's screams.

 

XXXX

 

5:05a.m.

"EMILYYYYYYYY!"

The sound of his partner screaming was enough to propel Mulder tumbling out of bed and halfway to the connecting door before the sound had even fully registered in his mind. His forward momentum carried him into Scully's room, and for a heart-stopping second he couldn't see her.

The bed, its coverings rumpled, was empty.

But then, as he became fully aware, he heard her again. 

Sobbing, rasping his name as she tried to draw breath.

Huddled in a corner, cheek pressed up against the wall, eyes squeezed tightly shut against whatever horror she had visited in her dreams to make her cry out her daughter's name, his partner whimpered softly.

Mulder clamped down on the basic urge to just get to her as quickly as possible and forced himself to approach slowly, cautiously. Right now he had no way of knowing whether she was asleep or awake. 

He knew enough about nightmares to know that, even if it was not strictly true that waking someone in the grips of a bad dream could cause irreversible damage, it was certainly true that the sufferer would be disorientated. He had no wish to add to Scully's panic.

As he got closer, he could see her eyes had opened, her lashes wet with the tears that still clung to them. Beyond that, though, he had no idea as to her state of mind.

Careful not to touch her, he hunkered down in front of her, hardly breathing as he whispered her name. 

"Scully?"

In response to his voice, Mulder was rewarded when her eyes focused on him. 

Wherever she was, she could hear him. 

Could recognize him.

But even as she relaxed slightly, he could see the lingering terror in her expression, and his throat tightened as he watched the tears once again pool in her luminous blue eyes.

"Ssshhh, Scully. It's okay. You're safe. It was just a bad dream."

Cupping her face in his hands, he used his thumbs to gently wipe the wetness from her cheeks. Still he hardly dared to breathe lest he frighten her more than she already was.

"Muh...Mulder?"

He had to strain to hear her. His name was the merest whisper on her trembling lips as she reached out for him.

"It's okay. Ssshhh, Scully. I'm here."

Then, as he watched the recognition snap into her expression, he allowed her to bolt into the security of his waiting arms, enveloping her in his embrace as she sobbed against his chest. Her hands clutched at his shirt as he rocked her gently against him.

In between her choking sobs, she managed to gasp out a few words, which although muffled, made some sort of sense to him.

A dream. 

A nightmare in which her dead daughter had a starring role.

As real to her as he was now.

Mulder knew firsthand the numbing power of nightmares. Too many nights waking up with the sound of his own screaming reverberating in his head had taught him well.

Seeking to calm her, he began to stroke his palm in rhythmic motions from the crown of her head to her shoulders, whispering assurances to her all the while. He was rewarded finally when her trembling stilled and she was able to once again lift her head from where she had buried it against the folds of his T-shirt.

"You okay?"

A shaky nod, a trembling smile that tore into his heart. She looked all of twelve years old and just as vulnerable.

"It seemed so real," she whispered. "Like I could reach out and touch her..."

Mulder caught her hands in his, quieting her.

"It was a dream, Scully. Just a dream." 

Her hands were cold, and he realized that she was clad only in the thin satin  
pajamas he had seen earlier.  
"You're freezing. Let's get you back to bed."

Fear flared in her eyes once again and she pulled away from him, cracking the back of her head solidly against the wall. 

"NO! I don't want to go back to sleep."

Mulder winced.

Some nightmare.

Nevertheless, he persisted gently. 

"Okay, no sleep. But you can't stay here, you'll catch your death..."

"Will you stay?"

Again, that same childlike whispering voice. 

So unlike Scully it frightened him and he felt his eyes begin to burn with the tears that suddenly blinded him.

"Of course I'll stay. I'll always be here, Scully, you know that."

"Promise me, Mulder. Promise me you'll never leave me."

God, Scully, how can you even ask me that? Don't you realize what you mean to me?

He caught her hands in his again, drawing her gently to her feet before pulling her toward him to embrace her again.

"I promise." He whispered.

Continued part 9


	10. Chapter 10

Eeazy Sleep Motel. Cleveland Ohio 7:09a.m.

 

Sleep had eluded Mulder for the remainder of the night. 

The sound of his partner's screams seemed etched on his brain, resurfacing inside his head every time he closed his eyes. The sight of her terrified, tear-streaked face remained fresh in his mind, difficult if not impossible to ignore.

She had allowed him to lead her back over to the bed, not needing her permission to join her beneath the covers. He had recognized her need and acted upon it. As simple as that.

It had taken her a long while to stop shivering, and even when he spooned his body around hers, he had felt the trembling continue. He had a feeling it had nothing whatsoever to do with her being cold and more of a reaction to what she had seen that night.

And it had scared him. More than he would ever tell her.

Eventually, her trembling had stilled, and she had reached over to grasp his hand in hers. 

An unspoken acknowledgement that she was fine. 

An unspoken thank you. 

Mulder had held onto her long after her grip on him had loosened, listening to her breathing become sweet and even as she once more fell in to sleep. And despite sharing this space with her, he hadn't felt awkward. His body hadn't betrayed the way he felt about her, maybe because he recognized that she needed him there as a kind of protective force. Nothing more than that.

And, he had watched over her as she slept. Carefully searching her face for any slight changes in expression that might signify that the demons were resurfacing. But she had remained quiet, hardly moving except to snuggle more deeply into his embrace.

How she would feel when she awoke was a different matter altogether.

Awkward? Maybe. 

Ashamed that she had expressed the basic need to be comforted? Possibly. 

Angry with herself? Certainly.

It wasn't Scully. It never had been, and no doubt she would be mortified when she finally opened her eyes and realized what she'd asked of him.

But right now, she was sleeping peacefully, and despite a burning need inside of him to face the day, Mulder was determined to let her rest for as long as she was able.

He didn't want to wake her up. He didn't want to see the walls slamming back into place as she once more drew away from him.

In his wildest dreams, he wanted her to open up to him. To talk about what had happened last night. To make sense of it. To accept it so she might eventually find some peace. He wondered how many other times her daughter had visited her during her dreams. How many times had she awakened screaming Emily's name? One? Ten? A hundred? More?

How many mornings had she greeted him brightly as she crossed the threshold of the office they shared, while covering the heartbreak with a smile?

Mulder didn't even want to think about it.

It hurt too much to imagine her in a place where she felt she had to brave the hurt alone. That despite the trust they had in one another, they didn't allow themselves to trust enough when it really mattered.

They would walk to the ends of the earth for each other. Of that he was certain. But admit to themselves that they needed help? Never.

It just wasn't their way.

He held his breath as, beneath the weight of his arms, Scully stirred slightly.

Not yet. I just need to hold you a little longer.

His unspoken want remained unanswered, however, as little by little his partner began to awaken.

And then he felt it. He felt her body stiffen as she realized where she was. Where he was, and she immediately sought to escape from his embrace.

Scully twisted her body around, as though to affirm that it really was Mulder who lay beside her in the bed.

Her bed.

Under different circumstances, Mulder might have laughed at the expression on her face. But suddenly, nothing seemed very funny anymore. Maybe it was the fact that Scully was looking at him as though he were something particularly unpleasant she had just tracked in on the bottom of her shoe.

Or maybe it was the fact that despite what little sleep she had managed to grab the night before, she looked like death warmed over.

"Mulder?" she queried uncertainly.

"You had a nightmare. You were screaming," he offered by way of explanation and watched as his words finally registered.

"A nightmare?" 

She sounded incredulous, and despite himself, Mulder felt himself becoming defensive.

"I don't remember..."

How the hell can you not remember, Scully? You shook in my arms for over an hour for Chrissakes...

“ It happened. I was there..." he supplied flatly.

Scully regarded him for a few seconds. A nightmare?

*Nothing is as it seems here, Agent Scully.*

Children screaming. Darkness. Bone and tissue.

And then it was gone, leaving her with only the vaguest sense of unease as she watched Mulder watching her.

Pulling herself together, she shrugged. 

"I had a nightmare. You were there. I accept that. But why are you here now? Why did you sleep in my bed?"

The words came out harsher than she had meant them to, and as the hurt washed over Mulders face, she wished more than anything that she could pull them back in. Confusion as to what he was telling her had made her barriers slam back into place. She didn't refute what he was telling her. He would never lie to her. So why couldn't she remember?

He swung his legs across to the opposite side of the bed and slowly got to his feet. He didn't look at her again, but his final words reached her just as he was about to head through the connecting door.

"Because you asked me to."

And suddenly, inexplicably, watching him walk away from her she felt like crying.

 

XXXX

 

7:36am

"So what now?"

Mulder regarded his partner as she stood before him. With cosmetic application masking the shadows beneath her eyes, and her hair perfectly styled, she appeared the epitome of professional togetherness. 

Scully's armour.

Firmly back in place. 

Impenetrable even for him. 

Especially for him.

She refused to meet his eyes, and the words were forced. Stilted. As though she would much rather not be speaking to him at all.

He glanced at his watch and attempted to lighten the moment. 

"Well, I don't know about you, but I was thinking maybe coffee and bagels..."

"I'm not hungry."

Three words. Three words that told him everything he needed to know.

I don't want to get into a situation with you, Mulder. I don't want to talk about what happened last night.

And suddenly, he was angry. 

Don't do this, Scully. Don't fucking shut me out. You asked me remember. Don't pull this tired crap on me now. Not after what you said last night.

He sighed, ignoring the voice in his head. He was accustomed to disregarding it where this woman was concerned.

 

"Okay so what do you want to do? When's the autopsy scheduled? Nine-thirty, right?"

She nodded. Finally deigning to meet his eyes. 

"Get breakfast. I'll meet you there."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and left him standing, staring after her in disbelief.

What the hell was going on here?

 

XXXX

 

Coroner's Office. Cleveland Ohio 9:34am

 

Scully squinted against the bright light from the powerful overheads that lit the autopsy bay.

Only a couple of hours into the day and she felt like she was ready to fall back into bed. A headache had sprung up back at the motel, and despite dry-swallowing a couple of pain pills, Scully could still feel it stabbing viciously in the background. It had settled in the centre of her forehead, very similar to the headaches that had plagued her during her illness.

Her illness.

She wasn't sure when she'd blocked the word ‘cancer’ from her vocabulary. Just that it wasn't a term she consciously used anymore.

It was easier to just generalize, because by generalizing she could almost pretend it had never happened. Could pretend that it wouldn't again. Like hiding underneath the covers in an effort to protect oneself from the bogeyman. If you couldn't see him, he wasn't there.

If she didn't say the word cancer, it ceased to exist.

Simple, really.

Stupid.

She shook her head in an effort to clear it and once more turned her attention to the remains before her. It was tough to know exactly where to begin.

What had once been the body of Elizabeth Armstrong was now just a glutinous mass, glistening wetly from within a shallow plastic container. 

 

Scully knew that should she even attempt to release it from its confines, Lilly Armstrong would in all likelihood disappear forever down the gaping drainage hole at the far end of the table.

What the hell had done this to her? And more to the point, why had it been done?

It was difficult to imagine that this mess before her had once been a human being. Much less a child. 

Scully had seen some horrific sights during her time with the X- Files, bodies so horribly decayed that she had imagined their stench clinging to her skin hours, sometimes days later. 

But this? 

This was different somehow, not least because of the singular lack of any evidence to explain it in any logical way.

Scully sighed heavily. Nonetheless, it was her job to at least attempt to give this whole situation some kind of scientific meaning.

Dropping her head once more, she peered in closer to better sift through the wreckage beneath her. Carefully, almost reverently, she picked through the slivers of bone and tissue that had survived relatively intact, occasionally pausing to lift a larger piece out of the container. Transferring it to a smaller receptacle for further analysis later.

The irony did not escape her that there was in all probability nothing to find.

But she continued working. Methodical and thorough in her actions, her years of training had taught her that sometimes, even the tiniest clue might hold the answer to the most perplexing crime.

And then she saw it.

A tiny thread that glistened in the harsh light.

Strung as it was between two small pieces of bone, Scully's first assumption was that it might be a strand of hair. A single strand of Elizabeth's corn-blonde pigtail that had somehow survived whatever fate had befallen the child.

Carefully, she captured the thread between the tweezers' jaws, pulling softly, rewarded when, for the barest moment, the material slid toward her, and then...

"Shit!"

Scully cursed softly as the thread snapped, falling back against the bone. No, not falling. Floating. It floated gently downward, camouflaging itself perfectly against the surface. And suddenly Scully realized what it was she was seeing.

*Children protected for all eternity beneath her web, sleeping peacefully beneath her silken strands.*

Mulders voice as he recounted his tale to her as she had hovered on the fringes of sleep...and another voice inside her head, deep down in her subconscious, clamouring to be heard.

*Nothing is beautiful here, Agent Scully. It's all an illusion...*

She backed away from the table, her eyes never leaving the spot where she knew the silken remnants of the spider's web to be, inexplicably needing to place some distance between herself and...and...

And what, Dana? 

God, it was hot in here.

She pulled at the mask that covered her face, gulping in the air in an attempt to alleviate the sickening wave of nausea that rolled in her stomach. Stumbling backward as she did so, heedless of any obstacles that might be in her path. 

Needing to get away. 

To escape.

The room blurred suddenly, forcing her to slam her eyes closed as the world around her began to tilt at an impossible angle. Like a climber balanced precariously on the edge of a sheer cliff, she fought to retain her balance as the floor rolled and churned crazily beneath her.

Children screaming. Darkness. Bone and tissue.

And in the middle of it all a vision of Emily. 

Her Emily. 

Screaming out for her name even as she was taken in to the darkness.

Mommmeeeeee!

Scully cried out as a hand gripped her upper arm. She could feel the fingers that curled around her tender flesh, digging deep. Bruising her.

"SCULLY, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!"

Mulder's voice. 

High pitched. 

Panicked even. 

Far away somehow.

But it was enough.

Scully's eyes snapped open abruptly. The first thing she was conscious of was her partner's white, pinched face. She could clearly see the pulse that jumped rapidly at his temple. By its rhythm, she guessed that he was badly frightened. That she was the one who had frightened him.

His grip on her loosened a fraction as his eyes searched her face.

"Scully...talk to me," he implored hoarsely.

And just before the world began to spin again, she breathed out a single word that seemed to hang between them like an early morning mist, her voice so soft that Mulder was unsure as to whether she'd even spoken at all.

"Dreamcatcher..."

The word barely registered though, instantly forgotten as, right before his horrified eyes, his partner pitched forward into unconsciousness.

Continued Part 10


	11. Chapter 11

Coroner's Office, Cleveland, Ohio May 4th 10:15am

 

Scully settled her gaze on the chipped, pitted surface of the wooden table top.

The Cleveland Coroner's office wasn't big enough to house an employee dining area as such, but this jumble of mismatched furniture surrounded by wall-mounted vending machines seemed to do the job pretty well. It was tucked away in a far corner of the building, and they had been ushered here by a worried looking lab assistant in response to Scully's absolute insistence that she was fine.

She was aware of Mulders eyes on her. Even from his position behind her she could feel them, boring into her back like twin lasers.

He wasn't happy, and she frowned as she recalled the pitch of his voice as he had, on her insistence, cancelled his call for the EMTs.

She had recovered quickly, and could see little point in having a paramedic tell her what she already knew.

A combination of a raging headache, too little sleep and no food for twenty-four hours had been the main contributory factors to her fainting, and no amount of argument from her partner was going to change that.

 

But he had been angry. Possibly angrier at her than she had ever seen, and despite being fully aware that much of that anger stemmed from the fact he was concerned, she hadn't liked it one bit.

It was amazing; Scully reflected ruefully, how quickly the curious onlookers had melted away when she and Mulder had started shouting at each other, leaving only the young lab guy to show them to this room. Even then, he had turned on his heel and practically run down the corridor to escape. No doubt she and Mulder would be the topic of hushed whispers for a few days to come.

Nothing new there.

"Here. Drink this."

Mulder set a steaming cup of something in front of Scully. She wasn't sure, but suspected the greyish, anaemic-looking liquid might be tea. Corporate vending machines weren't generally known for their differentiating skills where drinks were concerned, and usually it was impossible to identify a beverage by sight alone. The last thing she felt like doing right now though was to sit here under Mulders scrutiny playing a game of guess the drink. Nevertheless she dutifully brought the cup to her lips, wincing as she got a first taste of the liquid.

Yep, it was tea all right, or some version thereof. It was hard to tell beneath the sweetness.

She set the cup down.

"Mulder, there's sugar in this. I hate sugar in drinks. You know that."

 

He shrugged, his face almost devoid of emotion as he struggled to keep his anger in check. But his neutral didn't fool Scully. Too much time spent around this man when he was wrestling with his emotions had taught her that an expressionless face usually meant anything but.

"I figured you could use the carbohydrates."

Scully narrowed her eyes. 

Was he purposely baiting her? Trying to provoke another argument?

She sighed. 

No. If anything, he sounded more worried than angry, and besides, another screaming match would achieve absolutely nothing. Each as stubborn as the other, neither one would be prepared to back down.

Scully insisting she was fine. 

Mulder insisted equally as vehemently that she patently wasn't. 

A no-win situation.

They'd been there before.

 

"Thank you," she murmured quietly and forced herself to take another sip of the burning liquid.

The silence stretched uncomfortably between them as Mulder drummed his fingers on the hard surface. Finally, he rocked back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

"Dreamcatcher?"

Scully frowned. 

"What?"

“Dreamcatcher. It's what you said to me before you passed out. I wondered why."

Dreamcatcher? She'd said that? 

Scully dragged her mind back. 

She remembered being in the autopsy bay, remembered looking down at the remains of Elizabeth Armstrong. Suddenly feeling as though the world had tilted on its axis, and then...

Nothing.

 

Just a blank space until she had opened her eyes in response to her partner's voice as he cradled her in his arms, both of them on the floor. She assumed he'd laid her down there when she lost consciousness.

Dreamcatcher?

She shook her head slightly, the confusion all too evident on her face. 

"I have no idea. No clue as to why I might have said that."

By the look on Mulders face, it was obvious he wasn’t surprised because he plainly didn't understand it either.

"Why?" she prompted. "Do you think it means something?"

Mulder almost smiled at her earnestness. There was a time when Scully wouldn't even have asked him that question. So rigidly had she been bound by the constraints of science that to even entertain the notion that the word might have some significance to the case wouldn't have even entered her mind.

But things changed.   
Dana Scully had changed.

Slowly but surely, he had seen her loosen her grip on the hope that everything could be explained rationally, within the realm of the tangible. And while he never expected or wanted her to totally let go of her pragmatic approach altogether, it was heartening to see the way her mind had opened as a result of all they had seen over the past six years.

Dreamcatcher.

He rolled the word around his mind. 

Tested it. 

Made it his. 

Certainly, he was intrigued, although at the same time he knew that it could just be a random coincidence. A reaction to the case? To what they had seen? To the legend he had lulled her to sleep with the night before?

To all those things?

Even so. It was strange.

"I don't know," he admitted eventually, glancing at his watch as he did so. "But one thing's for certain. We aren't getting anything answered by just sitting here."

Scully nodded, and drained the last of the tea, attempting not to grimace in disgust as the sugary dregs passed over her tongue. Mulder watched her, satisfied for now that she had at least backed down enough to do as he had asked.

If only everything were as simple as persuading her to take sugar in her drinks.

But it was a start. "Better?"

She nodded.

"Much. And Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

Dropping her eyes, she reached across the table and briefly grasped his fingers, squeezing gently before releasing them again. 

"Thanks. I'm sorry I went off at you. I'm just a little tired, I guess."

Mulder blinked stupidly. 

An admission? 

From Scully? 

Jeez, this day was going to go down in history, and for a second he wished he had a tape recorder so he might capture the moment forever. Just for all the future instances when he would ask her how she was and she would reply without really thinking about it. Just so he could depress the playback button to remind her that sometimes it was okay to admit she felt like crap.

"You sure you're feeling alright now?" he repeated, almost laughing out loud at the answer that automatically fell from her lips.

"I'm fine."

XXXX

 

Brackenhurst Learning Facility for Extraordinary Children, Cleveland, Ohio 11:01am

Leaving his partner to continue with her aborted attempts to analyze Elizabeth Armstrong's remains, Mulder had taken a quick side trip back to the motel before piloting the rental car the thirty-minute drive to the school.

An idea had been formulating in his mind, nothing specific, just random threads, teasing his senses, reaching out to him to be heard.

Dreamcatcher.

It had taken him a few minutes to locate the charm. 

Scully's room had been in a minor state of disarray from the events of the previous night. But after a few minutes of hurried searching, he had found what he was looking for.

The Dreamcatcher had lain, half concealed between the edge of the bed and the discarded comforter, probably in the same place it had fallen when Scully had tumbled out of bed in the grip of the nightmare the night before.

And in all honesty, he had almost forgotten that it existed at all. 

Until an hour ago in the autopsy bay when his frightened partner had reminded him.

Hearing the single word spill from her lips before she had collapsed against him had made him recoil slightly. And even then, he hadn't really made any connection. His only thought had been on the woman before him.

But now, as his mind had settled once again on the case at hand, he had time to re-evaluate his earlier dismissal.

He wasn't sure what, if anything, he was hoping to discover by making a return trip to the school, but he had a strong hunch that there was more to all this than met the eye. 

Having spoken to Skinner just a scant few minutes before, he had been uncomfortably aware that he had nothing of any significance to report to his superior and hadn't missed the terseness directed at him because of this.

Skinner, on the whole, was a sympathetic ally toward their work. But he expected results. Results that right now, Mulder was aware that he wasn't even halfway to providing.

Turning his attention back to the here and now, Mulder rolled the car to a halt in front of the impressive building. The bright sunshine did little to lessen its air of importance and, if anything, it seemed even more of a looming presence than it had last night.

The tasselled bell pull swung gently in the breeze, as if issuing an invitation to him. Never one to stand on ceremony, Mulder grasped it firmly. Unlike last night, however, no smiling child was there to greet him. Instead he found himself confronted with the pinched, white face of Julia Brackenhurst.

"Agent Mulder...I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting..." 

She trailed off wearily and stood aside for him to enter.

The large, opulent vestibule seemed hushed. Empty somehow.

Last night he had not been surprised by the silence, given the relative lateness of the hour. But today he had expected to see evidence of the school's unique teaching system at work.

Julia caught his look and sighed heavily.

"I had the students' parents pick them up this morning. After what happened last night, they didn't need much persuading."

She sounded defeated. Used up. The voice of a woman who has seen her dreams crumble to dust before her eyes. And although Mulder could understand her reasoning in trying to protect her young charges, her news was neither welcomed nor expected.

"They're gone? All of them?"

Julia shook her head slightly. 

"No, not all. Most, but not all. As I explained to you and Agent Scully yesterday, some of the students here have had their share of problems. Not all of them have parents to go back to. This is their home. They have nowhere else to go."

Mulder breathed again.

Okay, so he wasn't exactly batting a thousand here, but it was a start.

"Would it be possible to have a few minutes with each of them? I need to ask them a few questions, if you have no objections."

"Questions? Agent Mulder, they're just children. Extraordinary children, intelligent children. But just children nonetheless. What could you possibly hope to learn from them?"

Mulder shrugged and attempted to answer her as best he could. 

"I don't know. But in my experience, children sometimes have far more to tell us than we realize."

He watched the woman closely as she sized him up. Clearly disturbed by the notion that any of her young charges might be able to shed any light on the horrific occurrences of the last week, she was not yet prepared to dismiss his request out of hand.

Eventually, her expression cleared slightly even if her tone of voice was full of doubt. 

"Okay. Wait in the sitting room. I'll go and round them up for you."

 

XXXX

 

A little over an hour later, Mulder was almost ready to admit defeat. 

One after the other, the children had been summoned into the sitting room to perch opposite him on the edge of a large, overstuffed leather sofa.

He had questioned them carefully, quietly, ever conscious of Julia's hovering presence. He had tried hard not to make direct references to the Dreamcatcher he held in his hand, not wanting to lead them in any way. 

But even when his frustration had gotten the better of him and he brought their attention to it, all he got in return was a series of blank expressions.

Ranging in ages from six to thirteen, the half dozen girls he had spoken to were charming, polite, and precocious. But of no help to him whatsoever.

He rubbed a hand across his face wearily. 

Only one child left.

He wasn't holding out much hope that she would be any different from the others and he wondered briefly whether Scully was having any more luck back at the morgue. She had promised to call him as soon as the results were back on the tissue samples she had collected. He didn't expect to hear from her anytime soon. Even with all the might and fury of the FBI behind her, it was unlikely she would be able to get the wheels turning in her favour much before mid afternoon at the earliest.

Mid afternoon.

Christ. Another wasted day.

One child dead, another two unaccounted for, and he and Scully were no closer to even beginning to explain it.

Frustrated?

Mulder didn't even want to go there.

He dropped his hand back down to rest loosely in his lap as Julia guided the last child in to the room. She seemed younger than any of the others. Julia's hands on her shoulders almost covered them completely. 

Less self-assured than the other girls, she regarded him shyly, huge blue eyes peeping out from behind a fringe of windswept red curls as she scrambled up onto the sofa.

He couldn't help but smile. 

She looked like a miniature version of Scully. Or how Mulder imagined she looked when she was a kid. Of course, Scully probably wouldn't be sitting demurely before him. She would have been dragged kicking and screaming from the garden still clutching onto a recently dissected worm, tracking mud through the house.

He had no doubts whatsoever that his partner had been a tomboy. 

The smile still playing across his lips, he leaned forward slightly. 

"Hi. My name's Mulder. You wanna tell me who you are?"

The child before him began to twirl a few strands of hair around her fingers, as though attempting to make it even curlier, regarding him for long moments before answering.

"I'm Caitlin Megan Briony Stevens. I'm six and a quarter. How old are you, Mulder? What's your real name? Are you really called Mulder?"

Okay, so maybe shy had been a little off the mark, Mulder decided ruefully before answering. 

"I'm thirty-eight. My full name is Fox William Mulder, but I like to be called Mulder."

"Why? Don't you like your real name? Fox is a nice name. I like foxes."

Mulder laughed, the irony not lost on him that he was answering a hell of a lot more questions than he was asking right now.

"No Caitlin, I don't much like my real name, so everyone just calls me Mulder."

Caitlin sighed theatrically. 

"I suppose it is kind of a stupid name," she observed solemnly. "I mean I like horses but I wouldn't want to be called Horse."

"Caitlin!"

Mulder held up a hand in response to Julia's rebuke. He liked this kid already. She reminded him more and more of Scully.

"It's okay," he assured her before directing his attention back towards the child. "So, Caitlin, may I ask you some questions?"

She nodded, noticing the Dreamcatcher for the first time. 

"Are you going to ask me about that?"

Mulder held his breath. 

"Do you know what it is?"

Caitlin laughed, rolling her eyes as she did so. 

"Of course I know what it is. It belongs to Fliss..."

Julia stepped up closer, kneeling down so she was on a level with the child. 

"Fliss's? Caitlin honey I don't think so..."

Caitlin ignored her and kept her gaze riveted on Mulder. 

"It's Fliss's.” She insisted. 

“She says it keeps us safe from the dark place. She gave it to Lilly when she got trapped there."

Mulders stomach seemed to roll lazily at her words.

Dreamcatcher.

Don't lead her, Mulder. Just let it happen.

"Dark place? Where's the dark place? Have you been there?"

The room was silent, the atmosphere almost crackling with the kind of anticipation he had come to recognize when he was on the verge of breaking through a difficult case. 

So many pieces falling together at once, jostling for position in his sharp mind. 

Leading him.

Telling him where to go.  
And he watched transfixed as Caitlin bestowed a dazzling smile on him.

"Of course. We all have. Most times it's nice. There are flowers there. It's pretty. I don't remember it much...only when it goes dark..."

The smile died on her face. As quickly as it appeared it vanished, dark storm clouds covering the sunshine of her pretty features and she scowled suddenly.

"...then I always remember...”

Continued Part 11


	12. Chapter 12

Frank's Diner. Cleveland, Ohio May 4th 3:58 pm

Scully paused, the french fry halfway to her lips, which were now twisted in an expression of incredulity so pronounced, Mulder could swear he heard the words a split second before she uttered them.

"You've got to be kidding, right?"

They were seated opposite each other in a corner booth. Far enough away so that the restaurant's other diners couldn't overhear their conversation. 

Mulder had picked Scully up from the coroner's office, and quashing any arguments with a determined guiding hand at the small of her back, had swept her out of the building and into the gloomy depths of the 60's style diner.

You need to eat.

Okay, so the fact that she had spent the last thirty minutes filling up on calorie- laden junk was a moot point. She realized Mulder had been right earlier when he had suggested she needed the carbohydrates. Besides, it was delicious, and her partner had offered to pay.

After hearing his story, she knew why.

If he had expected to listen to that and have her pay for her own food she would in all likelihood have calmly pulled out her gun and shot him.

Twice.

Wagging the wilting piece of fried potato in his direction accusingly, she shook her head. 

"Mulder, that's insane. And you're basing this theory on the word of a six-year-old kid?"

"Six and a quarter, Scully."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize. Why didn't you say so to begin with?”

She rolled her eyes. 

"C'mon, Mulder! I mean, you have to admit that this is pretty wild even for you."

Mulder's only response was to capture the errant fry between his fingers. Stealing it easily, he regarded it thoughtfully. 

"Be careful where you point that thing, Agent Scully."

She felt herself redden slightly. The sudden heat she felt spreading across her cheeks told her that yet again, her partner had got one over on her. Usually she found it kind of amusing. The verbal sparring was all a part of the unique relationship they shared, and most times she enjoyed the challenge it presented. Right now though, it just annoyed the hell out of her.

Deep breaths, Dana.

"Mulder, I'm trying to be serious here."

Scully's words had the desired effect, and he sobered abruptly, dropping the fry on to the table where it lay in a small pool of ketchup, congealing greasily. 

He had expected this kind of reaction from her. Hell, after six years of having her punch holes in his theories he expected nothing less, and even though he was aware that his theory sounded implausible, much of what he spoke of had come directly from the mouth of Caitlin Stevens. 

And despite what his partner may or may not think, he had believed her.

No kid's imagination was that good. He didn't care how high her damn IQ might be.

"I know you are, Scully. But I'm serious too. I believe that something is taking these kids as they sleep."

"Mulder, c'mon..."

He held up his hand to silence her.

"Hear me out, Scully, please. Caitlin Stevens told me about a place she had visited. That they had all visited. Felicia Slabbert, Debbie Hollis, Gina Robuk...All of them. She talked of a place full of sunshine and trees and flowers and butterflies. Every little girl's paradise. The way she described it...she couldn't have made it up."

"Look, Mulder, I'm not suggesting she was lying to you, but this child is six years old...sorry, six and a quarter if you insist...and I'm not refuting that she believes in what she was saying. Hell, at six years old I believed that fairies lived at the bottom of the garden. But that didn't make them real"

Mulder raised his eyebrow. 

"Didn't it? How do you know that, Scully? Did you stop believing in fairies because you wanted to? Or because someone told you you should?"

"That's irrelevant, Mulder. I stopped believing in fairies because I got older and good common sense told me they couldn't possibly exist. Obviously a phase you skipped."

She picked up a rapidly cooling fry and bit down hard on it. She hated these kinds of conversations. Hated the way her partner could twist her words to suit his every argument. Hated the way her she fell back on sarcasm in an attempt to get her point across.

Mulder, however, parried her sarcasm effortlessly. 

"I never believed in fairies, Scully. Little green men were my kick, you know that. Look, all I'm saying is that this kid would have to have a hell of an imagination to come up with all that stuff. I mean, okay, lets say for a minute that she is yanking my chain. Where would she get it all from?"

Scully shrugged helplessly.

"Mulder, you're asking me questions I can't possibly hope to answer. If it was just about flowers and trees and butterflies I'd take a guess that we're talking about a child with overexposure to The Wizard of Oz."

"Okay, I'll buy that theory, Agent Scully. Now explain the giant spiders. The darkness. The man with no face who chases them down never ending tunnels, screaming out their names?"

His voice began to rise. He wasn't even aware of it. 

"Explain to me how this innocent six-year-old cherubic child could give me a graphic description of what it looks like for Elizabeth Armstrong to have the fluid literally sucked out of her body?"

Scully remained silent, not knowing how to respond to his sudden anger without resorting to similar tactics. Mulder, on the other hand, continued with his tirade, to the bemusement of the handful of other patrons seated at the diner's nearby tables. Once on a roll, there was usually no stopping him. He didn't much care who heard him or what their opinions might be.

"Give me your Goddamn scientific evaluation as to how she could describe the sound of bones being ground together until they resembled nothing more than pulp? "

"Maybe she's disturbed, Mulder. Disturbed about what she's heard about the murder. Kids pick up on things, and what their conscious mind doesn't necessarily understand, their subconscious fills in the gaps.........where the hell are you going?"

She watched as her partner savagely grabbed at his jacket which he had casually draped over the chair back. It was rare she saw him this riled by a case. Usually, even in the face of the most horrific events, he remained detached. 

Professional. 

Balanced.

Usually.

But not right now.

And deep down she wondered just how much she had contributed to his state of mind. The events of the morning were still a gaping wound between them. In the heat of the moment they had both said things they probably wished they could take back.

Scully closed her eyes as she remembered the look on his face when he had tried to persuade her to let the paramedics check her over. She'd just wanted him to back off. To stop trying to damn well protect her all the time. 

The biting, hurtful words had left her mouth before she could stop them forming.

 

*Don't presume you can tell me what I can or can't do, Mulder. You're not my fucking Father.......*

Surly he had to know that they were just that?

Meaningless angry words.

Why did they seem to wind up arguing about everything lately? She was almost afraid to delve too deep. Afraid she wouldn't like the answer.

"Mulder..."

He ignored her. 

Casually waving his hand in her direction he headed for the door without a backward glance.

"Finish your food. I'm going to the hospital."

Scully swallowed heavily. A combination of tiredness and frustration over her inability to tell him what he needed to hear had provoked a sudden onrush of tears to form behind her closed eyes.

For Christ's sake, Dana. Just stop with the emotional crap. 

 

The sudden sharp trilling of her cell phone made her jump visibly in her seat, and she cursed softly as she fumbled around in her coat pocket, finally locating the phone and savagely depressing the Send button to silence it.

"Scully."

Had Mulder still been seated opposite he would have had no trouble reading the subtle change in her expression as she listened to the voice on the other end of the phone.

In the space of a heartbeat, a myriad of questions flittered across her face, her features finally settling on an expression of abject disbelief.

"Can you repeat that, please. I'm not sure I caught it."

Again the young, male voice.

Recounting the results of the toxicological analysis on Elizabeth Armstrong's ravaged tissue for the second time.

Grabbing a wrinkled napkin from where she had thrown it earlier, Scully rapidly transferred his findings onto it.

Even as she automatically thanked him for the speed at which they had gotten the results to her, she was searching her mind for a possible explanation.

There has to be some mistake here. This isn't possible.

But, like exclamation points, the four words stared accusingly back at her.

Toxin.

Proteases. 

Lipases. 

Amylases.

In simple terms, the four main enzymes used in the breaking down of cellular material. 

Found, as the young lab tech had helpfully supplied, mainly in the venom of certain insects and arachnids.

Spider venom.

Scully began to shake.

Continued Part 12


	13. Chapter 13

Cleveland Ohio May 4th 4:59pm

 

Scully attempted to negotiate the mid- afternoon traffic, weaving the rental car through the Downtown Ohio streets with one hand, even as she used the other to press the cel phone to her ear.

"C'mon Mulder....pick up the damn phone...."

She waited a few seconds until the clipped, correct tones of the cel-net computer generated operator began to ring annoyingly in her ear.

*I'm sorry, the cellular customer you are trying to reach...*

Shit.

Either he had switched off the phone in deference to the rigid hospital rules - rules which they both tended to disregard - or he had simply left his phone in the motel this morning.

Knowing her partner like she did, Scully would have bet money on the latter. But this knowledge did little to soothe her. She didn't like being out of contact with him, even for a couple of hours and especially not now, not when she was still trying to process the information given to her.

After the initial shock had worn off, she had hastily exited the Diner in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Mulder before he headed off to the Hospital. But, as good as his word, he was nowhere to be found and since Scully had the keys to the rental, she could only surmise that he had snagged a cab.

Her first point of call though, had not been the hospital. 

Instead, she had driven the short distance across to the Coroner's office and picked up the print- outs of the Tox screen. Partly because she needed to see the evidence in black and white, but also partly so that she could better explain to Mulder what exactly they meant.

Which incidentally, was a joke in itself since even she wasn't sure what that might be.

The anger she had felt towards her partner had quickly dissipated. She wasn't exactly sure even where it had come from. It had risen up inside of her, unbidden and totally beyond her control. She had no right to take out her bad temper on him. he didn't deserve it, especially in light of the fact that she knew that his every action that day had been based on his concern for her.

He had done nothing more for her, than, given the exact same set of circumstances, she wouldn't have done for him. 

And how had she repaid him?

Certainly not with even a semblance of gratitude that he actually cared enough to bother.

 

Instead, she had taken the anger she had felt towards herself, and turned it squarely around so as to direct it at him.

Maybe it was easier to do that than to admit how she was really feeling – that the day had been a hard one.

The headache had remained with her, pounding at her skull, making rational thought difficult at best. 

And she was tired. 

God she was so tired. 

She wanted nothing more right now than to return to the motel. To sink her aching head in to the softness of the pillows. To close her eyes and let herself drift in to nothingness for a few hours.

And suddenly, the vaguest recollection of Mulder's arms around her. Feeling his warmth as he curled his body around hers. Whispering in to her hair, soothing her with his words, with his touch. Calming her in ways only he could.

*Don't leave me Mulder*

She had tried to remember the nightmare of the previous night. Tried so damn hard to sift through the mist that seemed to fill her head. Searching for answers to questions she wasn't even fully aware of asking. But the memory had remained elusive. 

Just the feeling of his hands tracing slow circles on her back as she shook in his arms. The sound of his voice. His words. His beautiful, calming words which allowed her to relax in to sleep again.

*Don't leave me Mulder*

*I'll never leave you Scully..*

Scully blinked rapidly, to dispel the sudden prickling behind her eyes, not really noticing as her hold on the steering wheel tightened, whitening her knuckles as she fought to keep control. 

Not even consciously aware that the darkness was lurking. 

Ready to consume her.

 

XXXX

 

St Mary's Hospital Cleveland Ohio May 4th 

 

It took a while for Scully to locate her partner. 

 

The small Hospital was, if anything, even busier than it had been the previous night and she had to almost shout to make herself heard above the din.

Eventually though, the admitting nurse had found the time to search her records and direct her up to the third floor. 

To Gina Robiks room. 

Scully had escaped in to the elevator gratefully, watching as the doors slid shut on the chaos that seemed to permanently reign within the building's crowded ER. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't bother her. Working alongside Mulder for six years had taught her all about chaos, but today her aching head just couldn't handle it.

She found him seated in one of the hard plastic chairs that graced the corridor outside the girl’s room.

Head resting in his hands, he seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of interest in the floor beneath his feet and for a second she paused, struck suddenly by the sight of him. 

He appeared lost. 

Defeated somehow.

Shaking off the thought that she might have in part contributed to this, she made her way along the corridor towards him. Long before she drew level though, he raised his head in her direction and Scully realised with a certain sense of wonderment that he could recognise her simply by listening to the sound of her footsteps. It shouldn't have surprised her she supposed. It was a skill she had acquired long ago with regards to him.

Had she ever in her life known anyone the way she knew him?

"Hey."

He straightened up, offering her a gentle smile that brightened his whole face. 

He was pleased to see her at least.

During the drive over here, Scully had wrestled with the fear that he would be angry with her. Would hold what she’d said at the Diner against her somehow. 

But she realised her fears had been groundless. 

Mulder never held grudges. Already he would have analysed her actions. Broken them down in to easily understandable segments. Made allowances for her. Forgiven her. Their friendship was far too precious to him for her to expect anything less.

He shifted over slightly and inclined his head to the unoccupied chair beside him. It's surface littered with a few discarded sunflower seed husks that had somehow escaped the small, neat pile that adorned his own chair arm.

Scully couldn't help a smile. 

Obviously, her partner had been engaged in some pretty serious thinking.

"You okay?"

That question again. 

His deep hazel eyes searching her face, brows drawn together slightly as he voiced his concern for her once more.

Scully cleared her throat.

"I'm fine. I'm......I'm sorry about earlier..."

Mulder shrugged, careful not to make much of the fact that hearing that simple admission from her had the ability to make his heart contract painfully. He didn't need her apologies. He just wanted her to level with him, to tell him the truth about what was going on with her. 

In the space of twenty-four hours Dana Scully had frightened him badly. 

Not once, but twice. 

And seeing her standing before him now did little to lessen the fear. 

Quite apart from the fact that something obviously troubling her deeply, she looked exhausted to the point of collapse.

Her delicate features seemed pinched somehow, the skin that covered her face stretched too tightly as she attempted to return his smile. Even beneath the make-up, Mulder could see how pale she was. The dark circles were back. Her luminous blue eyes ringed by dark shadows that seemed to consume her whole face, stealing her usual vibrancy. 

And if he was reading her right, he was pretty sure that she had been crying. 

Recently.

Why can't you trust me Scully? Why is it always so hard with us?

She sat beside him wearily, and for the first time, he noticed the manila file she held loosely in her hand. 

He didn't ask. He didn't need to.

Tired or not, she was immediately all business.

"I got the results of the Tox screen back. They called through just after you left....."

But then she trailed off, eyes fixed far in to the distance and Mulder finally reached out and took the file from her when he realised she wasn't about to continue. That she had drifted away. 

And the worry was back. 

Digging at him like a thousand needle points.

"Scully?...." he prompted softly, laying a hand briefly on her arm. 

She jumped visibly at his touch, and he immediately backed off. Watching as she snapped back in to herself. 

And Mulders eyes widened as he finally made the connection. 

Jesus, she's afraid

Afraid of what though?

Before he could even open his mouth to speak she reached across and retrieved the folder from him. Opening it up and running her finger down the page, stopping finally on a group of words and numbers that might have well have been written in Swahili for all the sense they made to Mulder.

"I don't understand Scully. What am I looking at here?"

She didn't look at him, just kept her gaze riveted on the string of technical jargon as though the answers might jump right off the page at her.

 

"I can't even begin to explain it Mulder. It makes no sense, but what you're looking at here are individual enzymes used for the breakdown of cellular material......"

"What?"

Mulder's mouth dropped open at her words, feeling the gears beginning to turn in his head....

"What are you saying Scully? That this is......is...."

Scully raised her head once again, confusion evident on her face.

"It's venom Mulder. Secreted orally by spiders. Injected in to their prey. It softens the tissues, liquefies them. It also contains a kind of anaesthetic, to immobilise so that the spider can do its work without fear of harm........just like Caitlin Stevens described."

Mulder actually felt his stomach, complete with recently ingested contents do a slow, languid somersault inside his body as Scully's explanation hit home.

Hearing about this stuff from a frightened six year old was one thing. 

Coming from the mouth of his scientifically minded partner was something else all together.

"Oh my God." he finally managed.

He was saved from having to articulate further by the door to the left of him opening suddenly, a nurse stepping across the threshold to bestow a smile on him that was way too dazzling for the moment.

"Agent Mulder? You can come in now."

She gestured in side, and Mulder immediately sprang to his feet.

Spider venom? 

He pushed the questions that were burning inside of him to the back of his mind, arranging his expression in to one of practised neutrality. This wasn't the time or the place. He didn't think that the waiting parents of Gina Robik would appreciate him discussing this right now. 

He entered the room quietly, feeling rather than seeing Scully follow him to stand close to his side.

The room seemed sparse somehow. 

A single bed taking up most of the floor space. No monitors, no respirator to jostle for position beside it. Just a single bed containing the still form of an eight year old little girl, who looked for all the world as though she were simply sleeping. 

The only piece of medical equipment that Mulder could see was the IV line that snaked from its stand, coiling slightly across the covers until it disappeared in to the soft skin at the back of Gina's hand.

Feeding her as she slept.

Two sets of worried eyes fastened on him as he entered the room. 

Gina's parents. 

Both displaying that same haunted look he had seen a thousand times before. The look of two people tying desperately to hold on to even the smallest thread of hope.

He extended his hand.

"Special Agent Fox Mulder. My partner Dana Scully. Thank you for agreeing to see us....."

The woman shook her head slightly, disregarding him immediately, and riveting her gaze back on her daughter.

"How is she?" He queried.

"No change...."

The woman's voice cracked slightly as she voiced the words and Mulder was uncomfortably aware of the tears that spilled from her half closed eyes and tracked down her face in a steady, silent stream. 

 

He felt awkward, as though he were an interloper, his presence unwanted, unwarranted.

"I appreciate this is a difficult time for you." he ventured gently "But we need to ask you a few questions......would you prefer if we went somewh.."

"We're staying right here."

Gina's father cut him off abruptly and Mulder recognised the barely suppressed anger churning beneath the surface.

"We should never have agreed to her going to that damn place in the beginning"

Mulder didn't respond. 

He knew that he wasn't expected to. 

Instead, he pulled a chair close to the two distraught figures before him. Scully remained standing, her gaze riveted on the bed where Gina lay, the sound of her partner's voice barely even registering as he began to softly question the child's parents.

And then, the voice faded out altogether, to be replaced with a whispering stillness that dipped and swirled inside Scully's head.

She took a step forward. Listening intently all the while as the whispering became clearer, more pronounced.

Come closer

Another step. 

Hands clenched into fists, a part of her, the rational part attempted to deny the voice. But it was too strong. 

The sound of a child. 

Calling out to her. 

Come closer Dana. Come see.

From across the room, Mulder frowned as he watched his partner's face go alarmingly blank, hardly listening to the response of the Robik parents to his question. 

His attention was riveted on Scully as she took a hesitant step towards the bed, her head cocked slightly to the side, as though she were trying to figure out a particularly perplexing problem. 

Her hands were tightly clenched into fists at the end of arms that hung limply at her sides.

Time seemed to stand still as he watched the drama unfolding before him, even now unsure as to what he was seeing.

And all the while, Dana Scully drifted.

She was no longer aware of her surroundings. 

The rooms' contours had blurred together, getting lost in her peripheral vision until they ceased to exist altogether. 

Leaving only the child before her.

Innocent. Peaceful. Serene.

Nestled snugly beneath a canopy of fine spun lace that shimmered and sparkled in the strange half light, Gina Robik slept. Wrapped in dreams, she sighed contentedly in her sleep.

Scully smiled at this vision before her. 

Drinking in the serene beauty of the child. 

Rich ebony hair, spread across a pillow of ivory silk, wafting gently in the sweet breeze that kept her comfortable as she slumbered. Pink rosebud lips parted gently in a smile of absolute tranquillity.

A scene so breathtakingly perfect that Scully couldn't help but stroke a finger along the smooth porcelain of the little girls flushed cheeks........

"What the hell is she doing?"

Michael Robik sprang to his feet the instant Scully reached out to his daughter and the spell was broken. Shattered in to a thousand pieces as Scully jerked back abruptly.

Mulder followed Robik a split second later, catching a hold of the smaller man's arm even as he took a step towards Scully.

"Wait." He ordered forcibly.

Scully blinked.

Once. 

Twice.

Her eyes were wide, and what little colour she had drained out of her face. 

To Mulder it seemed like this moment of realisation was frozen in time as a sudden terrible clarity flooded her features and she took a stumbling step backwards, seeking escape from a horror only she understood. 

She brought a closed fist up to her mouth, pressing against it as though biting back a scream. Her breathing was harsh, laboured, reverberating around the sterile surfaces and to Mulders mind at least, blocking everything else out. She remained there for long seconds, until, just as Mulder was about to go to her, she uttered an anguished cry and fled the room.

Ignoring the incredulous stares of the Robiks, Mulder followed.

"Scully!.....Wait!"

He caught up with her easily. She seemed disorientated somehow, frowning heavily, as though trying to place him in her thoughts.

Mulder took a hold of her upper arms, forcing her to look at him, heart sinking as he felt her limbs trembling beneath him, hardly lessening as she slowly came back to him.

The returning was painful for her though. The tears that pooled in her eyes told him as much. Unable to speak, she just shook her head from side to side, an expression of absolute wretchedness obscuring every other emotion from him, and Mulder felt something inside of him turn to stone.

"Scully. It's okay........"

The tears spilled to run unchecked. A salty river that seemed to have no end, they collected in droplets at the edge of her fixed jaw line to drip on to the fabric of her tailored suit.

Oh God Scully, what? What is it? Please......

"Mulder......"  
Again, that same whispered voice he had heard before, almost hidden behind the hitching sobs that tore at her throat.....

"Please Mulder. Take me out of here....."

Continued Part 13


	14. Chapter 14

Eeazy Sleep Motel Cleveland, Ohio May 4th 6:01pm

She hadn't spoken.

Not one word since they had left the hospital. 

Ignoring the curious stares of the medical personnel, Mulder had placed an arm protectively around her shaking shoulders, steering her toward the hospital's exit and the parking lot beyond.

She had stood, shivering slightly beside the car as she waited for him to unlock the doors, not resisting when he ushered her gently inside. Just closed her eyes and rested her cheek against the smooth coolness of the side window.

*Take me out of here*

Mulder had complied, breaking several speed limits as he wove the rental through the rush hour traffic. Occasionally he rested one hand protectively against his partner's shoulder, partly to protect her from being jarred or shaken by the vehicle's momentum, but also by a need to touch her. To let her know he was with her.

She remained silent. 

Unmoving. 

Unresponsive to his touch. 

Retreating inside herself as she stared sightlessly through the passenger door window. 

If he lived to be a hundred, Mulder would never forget that look he had seen in her eyes when she had hovered over Gina Robik. 

Such horror.

Such hopelessness.

*Take me out of here.*

Blinking back the image, Mulder concentrated on the road ahead.

Whatever Scully has seen or experienced back at that Hospital, she was in no shape to talk about it now. That would come later.

Right now he had to make things okay for her again.

Nothing else mattered to him.

By some small miracle, he managed to get them back to the motel in one piece, allowing the car to roll to a gentle halt in front of their twin rooms. He turned the key slowly in the ignition, quieting the engine, letting the silence wash over them for a few seconds before he reached over and placed two fingers underneath Scully's chin, drawing her head around so that she faced him.

"Let's get you inside."

He was rewarded when she nodded numbly, her shaking hands fumbling for the seat belt release. Mulder cringed as he watched those normally dexterous fingers failing hopelessly with the task, until finally, he covered both her small hands with his larger one, and released the clasp without difficulty.

Her eyes filled with tears again. 

"Mulder, what's happening to me?"

Her voice shook tremulously, seeking answers from him that he couldn't possibly hope to give her, and Mulder could do little more than to trace his thumb down the side of her face, pausing to push a strand of hair behind ear. It was the only vibrant thing about her.

"It's OK, Scully. We're gonna figure this thing out. You and me. Together."

She shook her head slightly. 

"No...but..."

"Yes. But first we have to get you inside. You need to let me take care of you."

Looking into the depths of his chameleon eyes, turned almost black with the intensity of his words, Scully had felt just the smallest measure of calm return to her.

And, through the layers of confusion and fear, she grasped onto the feeling with both hands, allowing it build inside of her, settling in her stomach. Chasing away the darkness that lingered, replacing it with the hope that somehow, some way, he could help her to make everything right again.

 

XXXX

 

As good as his word, Mulder had not yet mentioned the events that had transpired earlier. He had simply focused himself on delivering what he had promised. He had taken care of her.

Leading her by the hand as one might lead a small child, he had crossed the room and entered the small, compact bathroom. 

She had been shaking still, her skin ice cold beneath his touch and although he was no doctor, Mulder was pretty sure that she was suffering from a mild case of shock. He needed to start by warming her up. His options were pretty much limited, and the bathtub seemed as good a place as any to start.

It was either that, or simply wrap her in blankets, holding her against him, transferring his own heat to her. 

But he sensed she needed this time. Time to relax her mind and body beneath the soothing caress of the water.

So he had remained in the room only for as long as it had taken for him to fill the tub, carefully mixing hot and cold until the temperature was just right. Warm enough to take the lingering chill from her body, but not so hot that it would burn. 

And all the while she had watched him, never taking her eyes off him for a second as she leaned against the tiled wall, trying desperately to communicate a kind of silent gratitude which stubborn pride prevented her from voicing.

But Mulder had known. He didn't need her to speak. Words weren't necessary.

Finally, he had stepped up close to her, searching her face intently, satisfied in some small way by what he saw there. He gestured toward the bathtub, now three quarters full and emitting spirals of heat- filled steam that rapidly turned to  
condensation as it hit the tiled surface of the walls.  
"Take as long as you need. I'll be right outside."

And then he was gone. Leaving Scully staring after him, breathing in the lingering scent he left in his wake. A combination of spicy cologne, sweat and that unique male muskiness that was Mulder. In all the years they had spent together, that scent represented only one thing to her.

Safety.

She noticed that he had left the door slightly ajar, and under normal circumstances she might have closed it. 

But right now she needed to feel his presence. 

Needed to know he was close.

*Don't leave me, Mulder.*

*I'll never leave you, Scully.*

She needed him. 

Maybe now it was time to finally acknowledge to herself just how much.

Sighing heavily, feeling exhausted suddenly, Scully undressed quickly and stepped into the sweet-smelling water, allowing it to close over her as it worked its magic, sinking deeper and deeper until it covered her completely.

On the other side of the door, Mulder remained in the centre of the room, listening intently for any signs that his partner might be in distress. He relaxed, though, when the sounds of the water lapping against the sides of the tub reached him. He didn't expect her to surface anytime soon, so he occupied himself by preparing the small room for her.

First, he loosened the covers on the bed, pulling them down about a quarter of the way and folding them over. She was exhausted, she needed to sleep. Maybe when she was rested, they could begin to get to the bottom of this. To figure out just what it was that was happening, to understand why this was happening to her.

He didn't profess to have any insight into all of this, but as he had watched the way she had acted in that hospital room, a niggling voice had begun to speak to him. And while he didn't want to acknowledge it fully, he was becoming more and more convinced that somehow, inexplicably, Scully might well hold the key in to figuring out what had happened to those girls.

He shook his head, not wanting to linger on this numbing prospect right now and instead turned his attention to the rest of the room.

The sunlight still streamed through the open drapes, the beams cutting a swath through the gloom. Bright enough for the dust motes that danced inside them to be clearly visible.

It was too bright.

He crossed over to the drapes and drew them together tightly. Satisfied when the light disappeared, he switched on a single lamp, watching as the room became suffused in its warm glow.

In this false twilight of his own making, Mulder moved softly, his feet barely making a sound on the carpeted floor beneath them. He frowned as he reached the small, squat refrigerator to the side of the chipped wooden desk, unsure suddenly as to whether he was doing the right thing.

Neither he nor Scully drank regularly. On the very rare occasions when they had chosen to dine at a nicer restaurant when on a case, she had normally stuck to white wine spritzers, Mulder to bottled, imported beer. He couldn't recall a time when she had ever indulged herself in anything stronger.

But, even she, with all her stubborn determination, couldn't possibly deny that these weren't normal circumstances, so Mulder shook off any lingering reservations and removed two tiny bottles of brandy from the mini bar. No doubt the tight-assed bureaucrats back in Washington would have something to say when they received his latest batch of expense reports. 

Mulder shrugged. 

Screw 'em. 

He'd long ago stopped worrying about what they thought of him anyway.

He set the two bottles down on the desk, allowing them to slowly reach room temperature, forcing himself to finally sit down on the edge of the sofa. 

Waiting.

Determined not to give in to his concern and call out to her. She'd come out when she was ready.

As it turned out, he didn't have to wait too long. No more than a half hour had elapsed before he recognized the sounds of water swirling around the drain as the tub emptied. Five minutes later Scully emerged, clad in a pair of emerald flannel pyjamas he had never seen before. A towel lay across her shoulders to catch the droplets of water that hung off her recently washed hair and although she still looked drawn, Mulder was at least heartened to see the small spots of colour that had returned to grace her cheeks.

She paused in the centre of the room, eyes downcast, as though she were ashamed somehow.

Mulder felt his chest tighten at the sight of her. She looked so tiny, so fragile and more lost than he had ever seen her.

"I'm...I'm sorry Mulder."

He was on his feet in a second, reaching her in two short strides. She cringed slightly, but didn't seek to escape him. Not this time. She allowed him to cup her chin in his hand, lifting her head in answer to the gentle pressure, feeling the feather-light touch as his thumb caressed her smooth skin softly.

"Don't be. Not with me. Never with me, Scully."

He traced his hand down her neck, along her shoulder and beyond, until it rested against the small of her back. 

"C'mon. You need to keep warm."

Scully resisted him slightly. The feel of his touch was comforting, and she didn't want to break the connection just yet

As if reading her mind, Mulder led her gently to the sofa, leaving her standing for a second as he reached behind her to retrieve the soft woollen blanket he had placed there earlier.

"Here."

With infinite tenderness, he carefully brought the material around her, wrapping her in its heavy warmth, before removing the towel from around her neck. His movements were so quiet, so measured, that Scully could have cried. Instead, she felt a tremulous smile wash over her lips as he took her hand in his, drawing her down on the sofa to rest her body against his. 

And then, the feeling of him twisting away from her slightly as he stretched his arm out, picking up the glass into which he had recently poured the small shot of brandy.

"I want you to drink this."

Scully took the glass from him and regarded its contents dubiously. 

"Mulder, I..." 

The words died on her lips as she felt his fingers in her hair, combing patiently as he freed the tangles caused by her recent bath. A singularly intimate gesture that made her breath catch in her throat.

"Sshhhh, Scully. It's okay. Just drink it."

Closing her eyes, she obeyed, melting herself against him as the alcohol cut a fiery trail down her throat before settling pleasantly in her stomach. She sighed as she felt herself relax, the tension leaving her body, until there was nothing. 

Just Mulders hands. 

And the feel of his breath on the back of her neck as he worked on her hair.

Scully drifted.

"You hungry?"

His voice reached her from far away, invading that wonderful place that lies somewhere between awake and asleep. 

She shook her head slightly, unable to summon up the energy to even open her eyes. Her lids felt heavy, exhaustion stealing even this most basic reflex from her. And even as she succumbed to sleep, she felt Mulder loosen the empty glass from her hand, removing it from her as he buried his face in the sweet smelling softness of her hair.

"It's okay.” He whispered softly. “Go to sleep."

She felt his arms tighten around her, drawing her closer, cocooning her in his embrace; allowing her finally, to fall into nothingness. Her last conscious thought one of safety.

Of protection.

 

Continued Part 14


	15. Chapter 15

Dreamcatcher May 4th 7:17pm

 

It was dazzling. A light so bright that Scully could still see the glare even after she slammed her eyes closed, and with the light came pain. 

Pain so intense that she couldn't help but cry out. 

It radiated from deep within her, an all encompassing, dreadful pain. 

She felt her legs folding beneath her and she began to fall, through the light, tumbling endlessly toward nothingness as she finally blacked out.

And then, later, the feel of a hand in her hair, stroking softly, bringing her back to alertness.

Mulder?

She dismissed the thought. 

No, not Mulder. 

But if not Mulder, then who?

"Dana?"

Scully struggled to open her eyes in response to the voice, fighting against the urge to just sink back into peaceful oblivion. Every muscle, every bone, every fibre of her being ached and she was terribly afraid that to wake up completely would just serve to intensify the pain.

"Dana..." 

That voice again.

Louder this time.

More insistent.

Scully groaned softly, knowing that she couldn't hope to ignore it for very much longer, and almost against her will she felt her eyes flutter open, struggling to focus on the child's face that hovered above her.

"It hurts," she whispered.

Felicia smiled gently as she once more began to run her small hand up and down Scully's hair. Stroking softly, calming.

"It's okay. It always hurts the first time. It goes away," she said matter-of-factly.

Scully struggled up in to a sitting position. 

"The first time?"

Felicia shrugged. 

"The first time you have to find your way here by yourself. I can only help you to come here once. Then you have to do it by yourself. It gets easier, though. You just have to stop fighting it."

She watched as Scully stretched out her limbs, knowing that the pain was abating. 

A little at least. 

In a few minutes, it would disappear completely. 

"I don't understand. Where am I? How did I get here?"

Scully finally allowed herself to look around, to take in her surroundings. 

Green grass beneath a canopy of giant redwoods so tall that she became sickeningly dizzy when she tilted her face upward to better appreciate them. It was cool here, the trees effectively blocking out the sunshine that she was sure lay beyond. The coolness was welcome, and she let it wash over her.

Fliss cocked her head on one side, frowning slightly as she did so. 

"Don't you know? Even after last time?"

Scully began to shake her head, but almost immediately realization hit. 

"The Dreamcatcher?" she whispered, her words almost swallowed up by the gentle rustling of the leaves above her. "But that was a dream...a nightmare..."

In response to her words, Fliss's expression darkened suddenly, and Scully had to fight the urge to physically recoil from the child.

"You think all this..." The girl waved her arm in a wide curving arc as her voice rose in pitch. "You think all this is a dream? Conjured up by your subconscious? I thought you were smarter than that. Smarter than the others. I thought you would be the one who could help us."

The child stopped suddenly, her body stiffening, a study in absolute unwavering stillness, and Scully's heart began to beat painfully against her chest. Something in the girl's expression chilled her to the very core, and inexplicable as it might be her every instinct screamed out at her to simply scramble to her feet and run far away from this place.

But she found she couldn't move. 

Couldn't breathe as she watched the colour drain from Fliss's face. 

 

It was all she could do to reach out a shaking hand and wrap her fingers around the girl's slender arm. 

The skin was ice cold.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Fliss snatched her arm out of Scully's grasp, finding her voice at last as she bolted to her feet. 

"We have to go. He's coming."

Scully just stared at her dumbly.

"What?"

It's getting darker. Why is it getting darker?

She was hardly conscious of the thought. Focused as she was on the terrified child before her, Scully had barely noticed the lengthening shadows that crept toward them, consuming everything in their path, obliterating shape and form as it ate into the safety of the light.

Fliss, though, had noticed and realization flooded her features as she reached down and roughly hauled Scully to a standing position, oblivious of the woman's shriek of pain as her protesting muscles cramped suddenly and painfully.

"Run, Dana! We have to run."

Scully took an uncertain, faltering step in response to the insistent tugging, but the pain was too great and she sank once more to the ground, almost bringing Fliss down with her. Tears poured down the child's face as her face twisted into a grotesque mask of terror and pain.

"GET UP!! PLEASE GET UP!!"

She began to tug once again at Scully's arm, as though sheer will power alone could get her on her feet and moving again. But Scully just shook her head numbly.

"I can't."  
"YOU HAVE TO!!! PLEASE TRY. PLEASE.....”

Scully slammed her eyes closed in an attempt to block out the sound of the shrieking child, a child who suddenly seemed so much younger than she had previously. 

A voice from another time, another place.

Emily?

And suddenly, the voice was gone. It was replaced with an eerie silence, an inexplicable sense of calm as the darkness closed in.

Slowly, tentatively, Scully opened her eyes. The action, though, was futile, consumed as she was by an inky blackness so intense that she couldn't even see her hand in front of her face. As though to affirm that she was even here at all she brought her hand closer, starting slightly as her probing fingertips made sudden contact with the soft skin of her own cheek.

She wasn't even aware of whether she was still sitting in a crumpled heap on the ground. She could feel absolutely nothing; it was as though she were suspended in a space that stretched to infinity.

And then she heard it. A faint buzzing sound, a sound that got closer and closer even as she strained to identify it. With the buzzing came a series of vibrations, the feeling travelling through her body as though she herself were a conductor for this strange phenomenon. 

She began to shake as the vibrations intensified, and felt the fillings in her back teeth begin to rattle in answer to the unearthly motion around her.

This is not happening. I need to wake up now.

She let out a long, shaky breath as the vibration suddenly ceased. She closed her eyes once again in an attempt to gain some control of her shaking limbs, and then the world seemed to stand still as she felt it.

Hot, fetid breath on her neck. 

Hot enough to burn almost.

 

For a split second she was frozen by the sheer terror that hammered at her, and then the spell was broken as she whirled to confront this unknown assailant. Her outstretched hands made sudden contact with a warm, slightly textured surface.

Leather?

But she hardly had time to register the thought before the pain hit her. Radiating from the tips of her fingers, it obliterated lateral thought, a burning, agonizing hurt that forced bile to rise in the back of her throat.

Dimly she was conscious of a wailing, agonized, scream. The sound bounced around her to be swallowed up in the darkness, growing fainter and fainter as the pain consumed her.

She vaguely felt the iron grip that suddenly wrapped itself around her, and even as she screamed, she fought against it with every ounce of energy she possessed, striking out blindly, feeling her fingernails sinking into soft, pliant flesh.

The grip on her loosened marginally, and she scrambled backwards, tumbling sideways in her haste to escape. Her head connected solidly with a hard, unyielding surface, the shock of which was enough to prompt her eyes to fly open.

The darkness was gone. It was replaced with a soft orange light that framed the bruised and bloody face of her partner as he stared uncomprehendingly down at her from his position on the sofa.

I hurt him. Oh, God, I hurt him!

"Scully?"

He didn't seem to be aware of the blood that trickled from the long ragged rent that stretched from the corner of his eye to halfway down his cheekbone. His focus was directed solely on the woman before him. Watching her carefully, searching for signs that she was awake, that she was back in control.

Scully couldn't speak. Didn't trust herself to open her mouth without screaming again, and instead settled on nodding slightly. But as she reached out to him, partly seeking comfort, partly in a silent apology, as his eyes widened in horror.

"Jesus Christ, Scully!"

Scully frowned up at him, her mind still fuzzy, refusing to process thought into action. Eventually though, she managed to force the word out.

"What?"

Mulder shuddered, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight before him.

"Your hand. What the hell happened to your hand?"

And then she saw what he saw. 

The soft, white skin. Now red and angry. 

Covered in a blanket of fluid-filled blisters that distorted the delicate shape of her tapered fingers.

And the pain returned with a ferocity that took her breath away.

 

Continued Part 15


	16. Chapter 16

Eeazy Sleep Motel, Cleveland, Ohio May 4th 9:04pm.

 

Scully made it to the small, cramped bathroom just in time before her stomach   
rebelled and let go of its precarious hold on the remnants of her lunch.  
Vaguely aware of Mulders hand on her back, she retched and retched until she was afraid she would never stop. What little undigested food had remained in her stomach had long since disappeared into the murky depths of the porcelain bowl, and now her back ached painfully as the spasms continued.

Tears ran down her face unchecked and, collecting at her jaw line, dripped steadily to form a salty pool around the rim of the toilet. Her breathing was harsh, ragged as she attempted to gulp in enough air to alleviate the pain in her chest.

And throughout it all she was almost oblivious to her partner's hovering presence.

Mulder, however, was horrified by what he was witnessing. More horrified still by the fact that until Scully got control of herself, there was little more he could do but kneel on the cold, hard tile behind her and stay with her.

He found he was unable to drag his eyes away from the blistered surface of her hand, wincing as she gripped the edges of the toilet, the increased pressure causing several of the blisters to pop, releasing a clear fluid that shone in the harsh, bright light.

What the hell had happened to her? It was almost as though she had gotten burnt or scalded by something. 

But he couldn't reconcile this. 

Up until ten minutes ago, she had been sleeping peacefully against him, nestled in the blanket he himself had wrapped around her earlier in the evening. 

There had been nothing, nothing near them that could have caused such an injury. He had held her against him, comforted by the sound of her even breathing as she slept, allowing his thoughts to wander, growing deliciously sleepy himself in the soft orange light.

Until all hell had broken loose.

It had started with a small, childlike whimper that had alerted him instantly that she was having another nightmare, and his immediate response had been to tighten his arms around her.

Mistake number one.

She had bolted upright and fought against him with all the ferocity of a she-cat, and Mulder had been awed by the strength that had emanated from his tiny partner. She had clawed at his face, her nails scraping the skin beneath them.

Mistake number two had been to release his hold on her.

In her haste to get away from whatever horror was gripping her, she had scrambled backward, arms flailing as she caught him with a right hook across the temple before falling in a tangle of arms and legs to the floor.

He had winced when he heard her head connect with the floor beneath. And then an eerie silence had descended as she opened her eyes, fastened her gaze on the damage she had inflicted on his face, and gone so white that Mulder had been sure she was going to lapse into unconsciousness for the second time that day.

Watching her now from his uncomfortable position on the bathroom floor, as she finally dropped her head to rest against her arms which were now crossed before her, he was becoming afraid of the same thing.

"Mulder..."

Her voice was muffled, but he heard her plea nonetheless, and reached forward to draw her against him. He wrapped his arms around her, over her shaking shoulders to cross over beneath her breasts. There was no resistance left in her.

Where was the woman with the spine of steel who had stood side by side with him as they faced down the most unimaginable horrors? In her place was a shadow. A weak, trembling shadow who lay bonelessly against him. 

And he was frightened. 

God, he was so frightened.

He could feel the heat radiating off her skin, even through the layers of clothing that separated them, and gently, he brought his palm up to rest on her damp forehead, swallowing heavily as the heat burned him. She whimpered again at his touch, but didn't move as he drew her closer to him. With her head resting beneath his chin, he breathed in the lingering scent of her earlier shampoo. Almonds mixed with the sharp, tangy aroma of her fear.

"Sssshhhhhh. It's okay. I'm here."

She was crying again. Even without the benefit of sight and sound, he knew that the tears dripped from her eyes. He could sense it. Could feel it.

"I'm gonna throw up again..." she murmured brokenly, weakly attempting to pull herself out of his arms.

Mulder resisted her efforts gently. 

"No, you’re not. Just try to breathe, Scully. You need to control your breathing. Just try to relax, okay?"

Keeping one hand wrapped around her, Mulder brought the other up to frame her face. Holding her head in place against him, smoothing her tangled hair with his thumb, he dropped a kiss on the crown of her head.

"Just close your eyes and breathe with me. Can you do that?"

A tentative nod, and he felt her eyelashes brush against his thumb as she did as requested. He concentrated on clamping down on his fear, forced himself to ride this out with her, until finally the shuddering gasps ceased and she matched him, breath for breath, heartbeat for heartbeat as she finally calmed.

Mulder remained motionless for a few more minutes, until he was confident that the crisis had passed for the moment, and then he spoke once again.

"Let's get you out of here. Can you stand?"

Another tentative nod and she allowed him to help her to her feet, leaning against him heavily as her shaking legs threatened to thwart her efforts in reaching a standing position. The minute she was upright, Mulder stepped to the side and bent slightly. Catching her under her knees he lifted her easily and cradled her firmly against him like a child, marvelling, not for the first time, at just how tiny she really was. Maybe sheer worry was clouding his perceptions, but right now she seemed almost weightless. Lying in his arms, she displayed an almost unheard of acceptance of her current situation.

Special Agent Dana Scully displaying a tired resignation, a weakness that Mulder had never seen before.

Oh yeah. He was scared all right.

But he forced himself to concentrate on doing what was needed right now. The worrying could come later.

Crossing the threshold of the two rooms, he carried her slowly toward the bed, conscious to keep his movements gentle, aware of her damaged hand. He lowered her onto the bed's surface and pulled the already turned down covers up to her chest. And all the while, she followed his movements with dull, half closed eyes, only wincing once when he inadvertently brushed her hand with one of the soft blankets. He frowned in response to her gasp of pain, and immediately spun around and disappeared once more into the bathroom. Listening to the sound of running water, Scully wasn't surprised when he re-emerged clutching a hastily wrung out towel in his hand.

 

Perching at the edge of the mattress, he reached for her injured fingers and carefully, so as to avoid causing her more pain, wrapped the material loosely around them.

"This should help a little."

Almost instantly, the coolness of the water brought relief to her burning skin and Scully closed her eyes gratefully for a second. 

"Thank you."

The bed creaked slightly as he shifted his weight, reaching across her and catching hold of her other hand. Almost against her will she felt her fingers curling around his.

"I want to take you to the hospital," he stated softly.

Scully's eyes widened and she snatched her hand from his. "NO!"

Surprised by the sudden vehemence in her tone, Mulder recoiled slightly. On seeing his reaction, Scully fought against the fear that hovered on the surface, threatening to consume her, and once more reached out for him.

She didn't even pretend to know what was happening to her, but the memories of the dream were vivid. Replaying over and over in her mind in glorious Technicolor every time she allowed herself to think about them.

And somehow, she knew that she was the key to everything. 

That as crazy as it sounded, she might be the only one able to bring this nightmare to an end. 

She had to make him understand. Had to make him start thinking logically about this case again. 

To shift the focus away from how she was feeling. To bring it back on to the why she was feeling it.

"No hospitals, Mulder. Please. I don't need a hospital."

He wasn't happy, that much was immediately obvious.

"Your hand..."

Scully shook her head and forced herself to look at the blistered, swollen mess that had inexplicably taken up residence at the end of her slim wrist. 

"It's okay. I can treat it. You can treat it. It looks worse than it is. First and second degree burns. I have everything with me that I need. A hospital wouldn't be able to do anything more than we can do here."

She watched as her words registered, watched as her partner raged an internal battle with himself, until finally, despite the clouds that still darkened his face, he nodded wearily. 

"Okay. I'll go fetch your bag."

He rose to leave, but Scully called him back before he reached the connecting door. 

"Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

She took a deep breath. 

"When you're done, there's something I have to tell you."

He opened his mouth to ask her, but something in her expression told him she wasn't yet ready. She needed the space to get her thoughts together and besides, her injury needed tending to first. So instead, he just nodded slightly and turned into the adjoining room.

She watched him go, listened to the sound of him locating and picking up the rental car keys. The small but well-stocked bag of medical supplies she always carried with them was still locked in the trunk. It was just easier that way, especially since most injuries they had ever received had occurred while out in the field. 

Of course there were always exceptions, she concluded wryly.

Scully let her head sink back into the softness of the pillows. 

God, she was tired. So damn tired. 

I'll just close my eyes for a second.

I'm not going to sleep. Just closing my eyes...

And she drifted.

When Mulder returned five minutes later, medical bag in hand, Scully was gone.

Continued part 16


	17. Chapter 17

Eeazy sleep motel, Cleveland Ohio. May 4th 1999 9:21pm

 

Mulder stared at the empty space that until a few minutes ago his injured, frightened partner had occupied. 

Uncomprehending for a second, he found himself literally rooted to the spot. The covers on the bed were still in the same position as when he had left her. Pulled up and folded over, about three- quarters of the way up. Chest height.

"Scully?......"

His voice rang out clearly in the small area, but not surprisingly, there was no response forthcoming. Nonetheless, he tossed the medical bag on to the nearest surface and headed for the only other place she might be.

The door to the bathroom creaked softly as he pushed it open, and he blinked against the harsh glare from the fluorescent strip light when it eventually flickered on.

One corner of the room was taken up with Scully's earlier discarded clothes. Her suit and shirt lay in a crumpled heap, left there when he had sought to alleviate the chill from her with a warm, comforting bath. 

The rest of the room was quiet.

Still. 

Empty.

Mulder felt the beginnings of panic edging towards him, but he forced himself to remain calm. She had to be somewhere within these rooms. He had been facing the doors to both as he had rummaged in the rental's trunk. He would have noticed if she had left.

She didn't leave.

He clamped down on the thought and rapidly conducted a search of his own adjoining room, knowing already that he wouldn't find her.

Eventually, he just sank down on to Scully's bed and dropped his head in his hands trying to ignore the phone that perched atop the night table. There was procedure to be followed now. 

Because despite the fact that logical thought was telling him that she couldn't just be gone he knew that she was.

Like the children at Brackenhurst, his partner had disappeared. 

No evidence, no motive, no explanation. 

Just gone.

Blood, bone and tissue

Mulder shook his head numbly at the memory and reached for the phone.

 

XXXX

 

FBI Field Office. Ohio May 5th 1999 2:07 am

Skinner was royally pissed. 

He had been both shocked and displeased to receive the call from Mulder, more so when he immediately recognised that the younger Agent wasn't telling him everything.

Mulder had been vague and uneasy regarding the circumstances tied in with Scully's mysterious disappearance, refusing to divulge anything more than the scantest details. Eventually, Skinner had lost patience altogether and informed the younger Agent that he would be on the next available plane.

Expecting problems with the airlines over double bookings he had barrelled in to the airport expecting a fight. Surprisingly enough though, Delta had appeared to have no trouble finding him a spot on the eleven thirty flight out and he had boarded the plane still fuming with pent up aggression.

The plane had landed, safely on time, a car waiting to take him to the field office. The lateness of the hour meant that there was very little traffic on the roads, and they reached the office in record time. A text book trip, that under normal circumstances, would be a God send, but one which now, just succeeded in making him feel even twitchier.

The field office was literally teeming with Agents, all wearing worried expressions as they scurried about. More worried still when they saw the set of Skinner's face as he waved his badge at them.

His reputation it seemed, had already preceded him.

Exacerbated by the fact that he had declared his intentions of coming down here and helping to head up the investigation. The word going through the building was that Special Agent Dana Scully, whoever she was, must be someone very special to elicit this kind of response from her superior Agent. The fact that he had made it here whilst they were still busy trying to get their butts in gear spoke volumes.

In actuality, Skinner didn't give a damn what they might be thinking. He had far more pressing matters to attend to.

Catching the arm of a passing male Agent who was trying unsuccessfully to avoid the stern, unforgiving gaze of the man before him, Skinner flipped his badge in the man's face.

"I'm looking for Fox Mulder. Where is he?"

So overwhelmed was the younger man by Skinner's demeanour, he managed little more than a strangled stammer.

"He's in interview room three.....sir........um, third door on the right."

Skinner nodded curtly, ignoring the curious stares that followed him as he continued along the corridor.

On reaching the hardwood door, he negated the niceties, and without bothering to knock, thrust it open and stepped inside.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Mulder jerked his head upright in response to Skinner's terse attack and just for a second, the older man was shocked in to silence by what he saw.

His agent looked about as tired and used up as he had ever seen. His strong jaw was darkened by stubble, his eyes red rimmed as though he had been crying. More shocking though, was the guilt that radiated from him. It was so palpable that Skinner could almost reach out and touch it. 

Mulder rubbed his face wearily with the palms of both hands, attempting, Skinner guessed, to bring some life back in to it.

"Morning to you too." he mumbled in answer to his superior's opening tirade.

Skinner sighed and took the unoccupied seat opposite Mulder. 

The two men stared at each other for a couple of seconds without speaking, until finally Skinner tossed the manila file he was holding, on to the desk in front of them.

"Care to explain this to me Agent Mulder?"

Mulder shrugged, before reaching forwards and flicking the front cover of the file open. Containing only a couple of sheets of neatly typed transcript, he recognised it immediately as being the official documentation of his initial report to the Cleveland PD. 

He leaned backwards and folded his arms across his chest.

"Seems pretty self-explanatory to me."

With a supreme effort, Skinner managed to keep his voice level.

"Cut the crap Mulder. This tells me nothing as to what has happened to Agent Scully. I've seen kids high on crack come up with better explanations than this."

His voice rose marginally as Mulders expression remained deceptively neutral.

"I want answers Agent Mulder. I want them now. I'll ask you again, what the hell is going on here? What's happened to Scully?"

Mulder regarded his boss through narrowed eyes.

 

"With respect sir, if I told you what I think, you'd probably book me in for a course of electric shock treatments...."

Skinner shook his head incredulously. 

He'd spent the better part of five years listening to this man's outlandish theories. Did Mulder really think that he could surprise him now?

Mulder got to his feet suddenly, allowing his glance to wander around the sparsely furnished room before heading for the door. 

"Agent Mulder! Where the hell......."

He trailed off abruptly as Mulder turned to face him once again, seeing the intensity that one more burned in his eyes.

"Not here."

 

XXXX

 

Eeazy sleep motel. Cleveland Ohio May 5th 1999 5:14 am

 

Skinner winced as he tipped the last dregs of the motels' crappy instant coffee down his throat. It tasted, in his opinion, just one step above complete shit, but he needed the caffeine to keep him alert. 

Despite this though he was having a great deal of trouble keeping up with Mulders train of thought. He'd been witness to the man's extraordinary leaps of logic before, but this? This was just too incredible even for Mulder.

"Let me get this straight......you believe that Scully has somehow managed to lock in to her dreams? That she has actually become a part of those dreams?"

Mulder nodded carefully, fully aware of how crazy it sounded.

"Kind of. She was having nightmares.....since we got here. Nightmares that seemed real to her. She was waking up screaming, trying to get away from something....."

"So what are we talking about here Mulder? Nightmare on Elm Street with an FBI twist? Should I put out an APB on Freddie Kruger?"

He regretted the words immediately he saw Mulders expression darken and softened his tone as he sought the one answer he needed.

"Do you really believe this? That it's possible?"

The question had the desired effect, and Mulders expression cleared somewhat.

 

"I believe that Scully believed it. I'm not sure she understood it exactly. She was going to tell me something before....before she was gone. I think she saw things that she couldn't reconcile. I witnessed it at the hospital. I just didn't take the time to really look."

He turned helpless eyes on Skinner.

"How in the hell could I have been so stupid?"

Skinner shook his head as he heard the defeat in the younger man's tone.

Guilt

Mulder was an expert.

"If what you're saying is true Agent Mulder, then you can't blame yourself for this. Recriminations aren't going to get us anywhere. The question is, where do we go from here? You're aware I can't exactly go through official channels on this?"

Mulder almost laughed out loud.

Official channels? Since when had official fucking channels ever done anything for them? Aside from constantly thwarting their efforts to get at the truth. He had learned a long time ago to avoid the chain of command as much as he was able. 

Spooky Mulder, brilliant crack pot. Sequestered in the basement. Out of sight but never out of mind.

"Mulder? Are you hearing me?"

He snapped out of his daze.

"Sorry what?"

"I said, how do we get her back?"

Mulders response though, jarred Skinner to the core. Whatever else he had been expecting, it wasn't this. Not from the man who always seemed to have a solution to every problem that came his way.

And never more so when Scully was involved.

"I'm not sure that we can."

Continued part 17


	18. Chapter 17

DREAMCATCHER 17

 

Dreamcatcher. May 5th. Time unknown.

Scully's first conscious thought was that she was cold.

Not the kind of chill that comes as a result of leaving her bedroom window open on a blustery night. Because on the odd occasions she had made that mistake, awoken shivering slightly as the wind whipped around the old Georgian building she called home, she had simply risen sleepily and closed the window. Wasting no time, she would then cross back over to the bed and huddle beneath the weight of the comforter, hardly even fully awakening before sleep once again overtook her.

But this was different.

This was a cold that invaded her very core, turning her to ice. 

Unrelenting, unimaginable cold.

She groaned slightly and reached out a hand to grope for the covers she assumed she had kicked off during the night. Instead of soft cotton, her outstretched fingertips connected suddenly with a hard, cold, slightly damp surface. The impact was enough to elicit a gasp of pain as the unyielding surface bent the digits back on themselves.

Jolted almost fully awake now, Scully forced her eyes open, bringing her injured hand to her mouth as she did so. But instead of her mouth, she encountered some kind of substance plastered across her parted lips. Slightly glutinous to the touch, it too was freezing.

She tried to open her mouth, to shout for help.

Mulder!

But the tube that snaked down the back of her throat prevented her from making a sound. It caused her to gag reflexively as she began clawing at her face.

*Oh, God, Mulder...help me...I can't breathe..*.

Her efforts to free herself were futile, and were hampered by her rising sense of horror as she began to recognize her surroundings.

Antarctica.

Mothership.

Tears began to trickle down her face, becoming frozen mere seconds after they gained release, and Scully slammed her eyes shut as she shook her head from side to side.

*This is not happening. It's impossible.*

Even as she repeated the denial over and over, she could feel a faint fluttering from deep within her stomach as the foetus within her turned slightly, nourishing itself in readiness for its birthing.

And somewhere from deep inside herself as the nightmares continued, Dana Scully began to scream.

 

XXXX

 

Eeazy Sleep Motel Cleveland, Ohio 1:20 pm

 

Mulder raised his arms above his head wearily, stretching deeply as he attempted to release the kinks from his neck. Lack of sleep and too much caffeine had resulted in a headache which had swelled to mammoth proportions as the morning wore on.

Hunching over Scully's laptop for the last three hours had hardly helped matters, and not for the first time he was painfully aware that he wasn't getting any younger.

There was a time, he reflected ruefully, when he could go days without sleep, forgoing rest when in the grip of a difficult case, relying on his endless stores of nervous energy to see him through.

Now, though, his body was screaming abuse at him for putting it through this kind of torture. Pushing forty was not a good age to be pulling an all-nighter, Mulder decided.

As the computers’ screen once more blurred and danced before his eyes, Mulder finally removed his glasses and rose gingerly to his feet. 

Ignoring the pain in his head, which he was barely keeping under control with over- the-counter pills, he crossed the small room to where the beverage rack jostled for position with a kettle on the small, chipped shelf. Without bothering to rinse his cup, he simply shook more low budget coffee granules into it and refilled it. He didn't bother searching for the cream and sugar.

Slightly more alert as the evil-tasting brew washed over his tongue, he wondered idly if he would soon be dispensing with the water and just chowing down on spoonfuls of the stuff.

It wasn't a pleasant thought and he was aware he was pushing it.

Despite this, he returned to the laptop. He had chosen to work from Scully's room, telling himself that it was just easier that way, since she already had the computer hooked up to a modem connection.

In truth, though, he simply needed to feel close to her.

*Face it, Mulder, old buddy: you just can't function without her anymore.*

He blinked, as he banged the coffee mug down on the surface violently enough for some of its contents to slosh over the side.

"FUCK!"

Bolting to his feet, he spun around suddenly and slammed a hand into the flimsy wall in front of him.

The impact sent a slashing pain up his forearm as his aching muscles protested at this sudden harsh treatment. But the pain itself was a release, allowing him to calm a little.

 

"Where the hell are you, Scully?" he muttered.  
Sighing heavily, he grabbed some tissue from Scully's night stand and carefully mopped up the spilt liquid that seemed intent on marking a path towards her computer.

Mulder smiled ruefully. Scully's ever- present laptop was like an extension of herself. It had accompanied them on every single case they had ever worked on, and she had only one rule regarding it: 

He wasn't allowed to use it without her being present to supervise. Ever.

She would be less than pleased if he wound up returning it to her with its innards clogged with caffeine.

If, of course, he wound up returning it to her at all.

The thought sobered him immediately, and he once again took a seat in front of the glowing screen. Tapping his fingers absentmindedly for a few seconds, he finally replaced his glasses. An idea had been building inside of him for some time now, pushing up to the surface. Demanding his attention.

Felicia Slabbert. The twelve-year-old girl who, he was pretty sure, held the answers he needed.

Mulder blinked rapidly, and began his search.

 

XXXX

 

Dreamcatcher. May 5th Time unknown.

Scully groaned softly, feeling the warm weight of the blankets that covered her. No longer cold, she realized with a sudden jolt of relief that she had been dreaming. Just a nightmare that had transported her back into that cold, dark place she had almost succeeded in pushing to the back of her mind.

Occasionally the horror reasserted itself through dreams, but for the most part, she was able to ignore it. To file it away to join all the other horrors she had witnessed over the last six years.

Hiding behind walls. Persuading herself that it had never even happened at all.

 

But slowly, the nightmare receded back to where it belonged and Scully became more aware of voices around her. Whispered voices, voices that seemed to come from far away.

"How's she doing?"

*Skinner?*

What the hell was Skinner doing in her bedroom? What the hell was he doing in Cleveland?

Scully dragged her mind back, fighting through the layers of fog that seemed to overwhelm her.

And then Mulder's voice, broken, fragile, full of despair. 

"Not good. It...it won't be much longer."

She could hear the tears plainly. Could recognize the way he tried to hold them back, unwilling to show weakness in front of their boss.

Much longer? Much longer until what?

Had something happened that she was unaware of?

 

Scully struggled to open her eyes, panic rising as she realized with horror that her weighted lids refused to cooperate. But through it all, she could feel his hand covering hers. Tempering her fear just a notch. Making it bearable at least.

"I'm sorry, Mulder." Skinner again, his voice also breaking with the strain. "I know how hard you tried. I know how hard you tried to save her, how hard she fought...and I'm here, to ask you to reconsider..."

He trailed off, and Scully felt the weight of Mulders head as it lowered to rest against her chest.

He was crying. 

Crying hard.

*Oh, God, Mulder, what is it? What's happened to me?*

"Leave me alone."

His words were muffled, she could feel the vibrations of them through her body.

"Mulder...please...quitting the Bureau isn't the answer. It won't bring her back."

"I said, leave me the fuck alone!"

 

She flinched inwardly at the venom in his tone, listening as Skinner's footsteps eventually receded in answer to Mulder's plea.

And then he was speaking again, his words almost lost in the wracking sobs that seemed intent on tearing her apart inside.

"I'm sorry, Scully. I'm so sorry. I did try...I tried so damn hard...and I know you can't hear me right now..."

*I can hear you, Mulder. I can hear you. Oh, God, what's happening to me?*

"...but I need you to know that...I tried. I always tried. He promised it would cure you. And I believed him. I’m so sorry......”"

Scully fought against the buzzing in her ears, straining to hear his whispered words. But slowly, they faded into nothingness as a dreadful realization hit.

*Cancer? God, no. This can't be real. Not like this, please not like this*.

"Scully?"

The buzzing became louder, more insistent, and she was only barely aware as Mulder gathered her violently against him, rocking her gently, smoothing his hands against her hair.

Her last thought was one of abject horror as his anguished wail imprinted itself on her soul forever.

“Oh, Christ, no, no, no....GET A FUCKING DOCTOR IN HERE........"

And then he was gone.

Leaving her once again alone.

Continued part 18


	19. Chapter 18

DREAMCATCHER 18

 

Eeazy Sleep Motel Cleveland May 5th 1999 2:14pm

 

Mulder rocked back in his chair, staring at the computer screen with an expression that bordered on disbelief. He had gone looking for answers - even the slightest clue that might lead him to his partner - but what he had found was so much more than that.

It hadn't been easy accessing the information - much of what he was now seeing was a direct result of Langley's hacking skills rather than any investigative prowess on his part - but eventually, he had been able to gain access to the Child Service's database.

He and Scully had already ascertained that both of Felicia's parents were deceased. That much was just standard background knowledge. It was what they hadn't been told that now seemed to jump out of the screen at him.

The history of this troubled child was laid out in front of him. 

Her mother, it seemed, had died during childbirth. A difficult pregnancy had resulted in a sudden onset of pre-eclampsia. Despite everyone's best efforts, she had lapsed into a coma from which she had never recovered.

Felicia, although premature, had proved to be a fighter and had eventually gone home to be cared for by her father.

And all that was fine. Tragic? Yes. Unusual? No.

What was unusual, though, was that this child was regularly seeing psychiatrists by the age of three. Mulder counted eight different psychiatrists over the next ten years, all with a slightly different take on this child's unique problems. But all were in agreement on one aspect; that the child was extraordinarily bright. Unfortunately, despite being dressed up in flowery language, it was also clear that they all were of the conclusion that, at best, Felicia Slabbert was blessed with an overly active imagination; or, as one eminent doctor so succinctly put it, she was a pathological liar.

There was even evidence to support that she may also be suffering from some kind of multiple personality disorder.

She had also been plagued by various sleep disorders throughout her young life. From simple nightmares, through night terrors, sleepwalking, sleep apnoea, this kid had experienced all of them at one time or another.

Until last year, when her father perished in the fire that destroyed the child's home.

And then everything had stopped. 

No more nightmares, no more terror. 

She had been moved to Brackenhurst on Julia Brackenhurst's approval, and aside from the usual grief that would be expected from a girl of Felicia's age, she had settled well.

Mulder shook his head. 

No, not settled. She had thrived. The visits to the psychiatrists had lessened over the following months, and it seemed that whatever it was that had plagued her throughout her life had settled.

Until now.

Mulder closed his eyes.

Was it possible? Was it possible that this child somehow held a connection to the dream world? That she was able to link into it? To allow others to link into it with her? But if so, then for what purpose? And more to the point, when had it started to go so horribly wrong for her?

Too many questions, and too few answers when all the time, the clock was ticking down for Scully. What was the point of gathering information when it was the information itself that was most perplexing to him?

Think, Mulder. Let it come.

He leaned back and closed his eyes, willing the images inside his head to assimilate, to become ordered.

What was it Caitlin had said? 

That he and he alone could bring back Scully, that she needed him to bring her back. 

 

And suddenly, from another time, another place, Scully's voice whispered inside his head. The almost forgotten memory of her brushing a hand across his cheek when, so many years ago, he had arrived feverish and heartsick at her apartment the night his father died.

Her voice. Gentle, cajoling.

Sssshhhhhh it’s okay. Rest. Just rest.

And he had allowed her to lull him into dreams.  
Rest. Just rest.

Mulder's eyes snapped open abruptly.

Could it be so simple? Could the answer be so intrinsically simple that he hadn't even seen it?

When was it that he had last slept?

Certainly not since she was taken. 

Sleep had been impossible to come by. A redundant luxury, pushed way down to the bottom of his list of priorities by his need to be doing something, anything to find her. 

Sleep had been out of the question.

Mulder unconsciously caught his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing thoughtfully as his gaze drifted toward the still unmade bed.

Could it really be so simple? Could it?

 

XXXX

 

Dreamcatcher May 5th. Time unknown.

Scully groaned softly, her consciousness urging her slowly through the disappearing layers of sleep. For a while she fought it. Her mind was still hazy and confused, filled with horrifying images of past nightmares, and she was terribly afraid that if she opened her eyes again, she would be confronted by yet more demons.

But the thought was fleeting, replaced almost immediately by a sense of calm. 

There would be no more nightmares. 

At least for the moment.

 

Slowly, carefully, Scully opened her eyes to be confronted with a scene that was dazzling in its beauty. Stretched before her as far as she could see was a wide, blue expanse of water, catching the sun's rays and sparkling with an intensity she had never before experienced. Colourful sea birds dipped and swirled above the water, occasionally disappearing beneath the waves only to reappear seconds later clutching a wriggling prize in their long beaks.

Smooth emerald turf ended a couple of feet in front of her, transforming seamlessly into powdery, white sand that reflected the sun's glare with an intensity that made her blink. Palm trees waved gently in the breeze, whispering softly to her through softly ruffling leaves.

Paradise?

Or at least some version of it, Scully decided. A knowledge born of the measure of understanding that had fought its way up through the layers of deception.

Wherever this place was, it was a combination of her fondest dreams and her darkest nightmares. Just as Felicia had told her it was.

She hadn't believed then. Hadn't understood. Now she did.

The Dreamcatcher. Somehow I'm in the Dreamcatcher.

Scully clambered carefully to her feet, ignoring the creak of joints held in one position for too long, and surveyed her surroundings thoughtfully.

Her heart sank as she turned a full circle and realization hit. The scene before her, which only seconds ago she had found so breathtaking, was repeated exactly at every turn. It shimmered slightly when she changed her perspective, only to settle itself once again with frightening precision.

A paradise with no depth. An illusion.

Nothing is real here, Agent Scully.

Scully bit down on the thought and began to walk forward, tentatively, hands unconsciously held out before her as though to ward off some as yet unseen adversary. A part of her expected she would make no headway, would keep feeling the cool grass beneath her feet as she walked. Like a million childhood nightmares where the bogeyman was gaining, but no matter how fast you ran, you remained in the same place - she expected to just keep feeling the turf.

The transition, when it came a few steps later, was almost shocking in its suddenness and Scully jerked her foot back from where it had burrowed slightly into the warm, fine sand. She remained motionless for long seconds, afraid almost to leave the sanctuary of the firm ground, before finally starting forward once again, heading for the water.

Eventually, the warmth beneath her feet cooled and hardened as she reached the water's edge. Tiny waves broke and played around her toes, dragging the sand beneath them away with each backwards swell. The water itself was cool, but not unpleasantly so, and for a few seconds she marvelled at the contrast between hot and cold. 

The sun continued to beat down upon her back, the emerald green flannel of her pyjamas drawing in the heat like a magnet. Down here, closer to the water, the breeze was more pronounced, whipping her hair around her face in its intensity. But the wind too was pleasantly tepid, warmed through by the sun's rays.

 

But despite the ambient temperature, Scully couldn't help a shiver that worked its way up her back.

Nothing here is real.

And standing here now, looking out across the calm water, Scully had never felt so alone.

 

XXXX

 

Eeazy Sleep Motel. May 5th 4:10pm

 

Despite his exhaustion, sleep had not come easily for Mulder. He had lain fully dressed atop Scully's bed, willing his mind to shut down sufficiently, for his body to relax into sleep.

The scent of his partner had assailed him as he flipped over onto his side and burrowed his head in her pillow. He identified the lingering traces of her shampoo that clung to its surface, and for a while, he had considered changing rooms.

 

Maybe sleep would be easier if he was away from the distraction of her. But here, he felt closer to her somehow. Here he felt the connection he suspected was paramount to his success.

So he stayed.

Emptying his mind until he felt his eyes grow heavy; conscious of the Dreamcatcher becoming loose in his curled hand.

Ssshhhhh, rest. Just rest.

Mulder sighed softly through slightly parted lips, relaxing. Letting it happen.

Until finally, he slept.

 

Continued part 19


	20. Chapter 19

DREAMCATCHER 19

 

Dreamcatcher May 5th Time unknown

Mulder felt the breeze tickling his face, the warmth of the sun on his skin, the brightness behind his eyes as he struggled up to a sitting position.

Half expecting to still be in the motel room, his preconceptions were immediately quieted by the scene before him.

A beach. 

An expanse of fine, white sand that stretched before him in a shimmering haze of heat.

It was hot here. So damn hot and the only thing that made it bearable was the stiff breeze that caught the tiny grains of sand and swirled them up to sting his face. Like minuscule pinpricks, the pain was enough to prompt him to scramble to his feet.

He was dressed exactly as he had been when he had closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off, the scent of his partner tickling his senses as he had fallen into a deep slumber.

He glanced around. 

Was that what this was? 

A dream? A product of his troubled subconscious? Certainly, he could think of no reason to be here. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't this. Not this piece of paradise that had propelled his partner, screaming his name out of her tortured sleep. This was wrong.

Until, far in the distance, he saw her and his breath caught in his throat.

Scully

He could just make her out, shading his eyes against the glare of the burning sun. But it was unmistakably Scully. He would know her anywhere.

She was sitting at the water's edge. And from his vantage point, the way she sat, legs drawn up against her chest, arms clasped together loosely around them, she appeared serene. Calm even. Certainly she looked in no hurry to move.

But she didn't see him. Of that Mulder was certain.

Mulder opened his mouth to shout to her, but before the words even had a chance to form, he closed it abruptly. Inexplicably, he was afraid to call out to her. Afraid that if he did, she would simply disappear.

So instead, he began to walk. Cursing the sand that spilled into his sneakers and chafed his bare feet.

Even as a kid he'd hated the feel of sand in his shoes. He had preferred to go barefoot, much to the consternation of his mother who had berated him more than once for exploring jagged rock formations without even the barest of protection.

It brought back painful memories of his father shouting at him as the blood spilled from a young Fox Mulders’ toes, the result of slipping onto a piece of broken soda bottle. Samantha crying because her big brave brother was hurt. His mother wearing that strange, pinched look of disapproval he would come to recognize well over the coming years.

Mulder closed his eyes at the almost forgotten memory of William Mulder stuffing his son's earlier discarded deck shoes into the tote bag.

*Now you can walk home barefoot, Fox. See how you like that, shall we?*

And the stinging pain as the sand had worked its way into the cut, each step bringing a fresh wave of agony. But he hadn't allowed it to show. Hadn't faltered as he concentrated on walking without limping. The cut had become infected and it was ironic, really. Because the infection had meant he was unable to wear shoes for the rest of the summer.

It had been a miserable summer, the final summer when he still had a sister, but hadn't realized that she would soon be taken away from him. Looking back through an adult's perspective, he could recognize the terrible undercurrents that had lingered like poison beneath the carefully constructed facade of normality.

But back then he had been too young to understand. It would have made no difference anyway.

Because no matter how much understanding he may have had, the results would have been the same. Samantha would still be gone. Her disappearance would set his feet on a path he was destined to travel his whole adult life. 

A path that had led him to where he now stood. 

Scully?

He was closer now, was able to make out the tears that streaked her face. They caught in the glare of the sun and shimmered with a blinding luminosity that took his breath away.

She wasn't moving. 

Wasn't making a sound. 

Because unlike back in the real world - where she had wept against his shoulder, her anguish emitted in short, hitching, gasping sobs - here she made no sound. And if it weren't for the tears that pooled in her eyes and dripped steadily down her face, it would be almost impossible to believe she was even crying at all.

Mulder shut his eyes briefly. He was maybe a mere five feet away from her now and still she didn't look at him. Was it possible that she really didn't see him? The notion was too awful, too painful for him to comprehend and he pushed it away sharply as he stood, unsure of what to do next.

Scully saved him the trouble. 

"Go away, Mulder."

He recoiled slightly from her words. 

"What?"

Scully finally turned her head toward him, her gaze settling on him, although he was unsure as to how well she could see him through the film of tears that covered her eyes. Her voice when it came was almost accusatory.

"I said go away. You're not real. Nothing here is real..."

She trailed off then, turning her attention back to the expanse of glittering blue that made up the ocean in this strange place.

Conversation ended. 

Nothing more to say.

But inwardly, Mulder rejoiced. She could see him. He was really there with her. All he had to do now was to convince her of the fact.

So he bridged the final gap between them and dropped to his knees in front of her, reaching out a tentative finger to rest beneath her chin.

In response to his touch, Scully slammed her eyes closed, whimpering slightly. 

“Please don't do this to me."

But he didn't falter, didn't change his position in the slightest except to increase the pressure so as to tilt her chin up towards him. 

"Look at me, Scully. It's okay."

Mulder held his breath as slowly, so slowly, her hands left their folded position around her knees and travelled up the length of his arm. Tiny feather touches that danced on his skin like butterflies until finally the tiniest ghost of a smile graced her lips. Her eyes when she looked at him though them were full of sadness.

"You shouldn't be here, Mulder. It's dangerous."

He shuddered then. Because for just an instant the sunlight behind them shimmered and shifted, revealing a darkness that assaulted his senses and caused his stomach to flip over languidly.

"We have to get out of here, Scully."

She shook her head numbly, still denying his words even as he stood, pulling her to her feet along with him.

“We can’t.....not until......”

Her words trailed off as in the distance the sand began to stir in response to a sudden change in the direction of the breeze. Mulder shivered as he realized that the wind was no longer gently caressing his skin, but had risen in ferocity so that it now whipped his hair around his eyes, causing them to sting painfully. But with a supreme effort he managed to keep his gaze on Scully. She seemed unconcerned by the wind. Made no effort to brush the hair from where it was plastered against her face.

It was as though she didn't even notice it.

A sudden gust against his legs almost made Mulder lose his footing and he staggered slightly, releasing his hold on her as the world seemed to tilt on its axis. The very ground beneath him seemed to pulse with life as the sand began to cover his feet.

Irritated suddenly by the grains that poured into his sneakers, grating against his skin, he sought to lift his leg on order to shake them out only to find that he couldn't move.

The swirling sand became a vortex, encasing him completely, allowing him only the merest glimpse of his partner's horrified face before it surrounded him, pushing against him as it sought to destroy everything in its path.

Oh dear God, it hurts.

He was dimly aware of the sound of screaming, but the pain became such that he was unsure whether it came from within himself or from Scully.

Scully's anguished cry as he was torn away from her..........

XXXX

 

"Mulder, for God's sake...!"

*Skinner?*

Mulder snapped open his eyes, focusing rapidly on the familiar face above him. 

Shrugging off his superior's hands from where they were locked around his shoulders, Mulder scrambled up to a sitting position, turning his eyes to where he held the Dreamcatcher, clutched tightly enough in his clenched fist so as to whiten the knuckles.

Releasing it wearily, he scrubbed at his face, attempting to restore some semblance of awareness to his confused senses. 

"Why the hell did you wake me up?"

He didn't realize he had voiced the query aloud until Skinner answered. 

"I was coming to get you...and I heard you screaming. You were having a nightmare."

"NO! I was there I saw Scully. I spoke to her."

"Mulder what are you..."

Ignoring Skinner's look of incredulity, Mulder slowly swung his aching legs over the side of the bed, feeling the sand that itched and burned against his skin. Brought back from the dream world, from the world in which his partner was trapped. From the world which had sought to consume him only to allow him to escape.

But why? 

Why was he different? Unless...

Dreamcatcher.

The key was in the Dreamcatcher.

It had to be. He had held onto it in his subconscious and it had set him free.

Continued part 20


	21. Chapter 20

DREAMCATCHER 20

 

Dreamcatcher. May 5th Time unknown.

Scully stumbled back as the swirling vortex of sand and pebbles came toward her, trying to see through its shifting wall for a glimpse of what she knew lay within.

Mulder.

He was inside. She could hear his horrified screams reverberating inside her head, and despite her fear she forced herself to remain where she stood.

He had come for her and she had let him be hurt.

Scully didn't pretend to understand the hows and whys, but he had been there before her, reaching out to her, trying to help her, and now he was hurting. 

Because of her.

The sound of the sand became deafening as it edged closer to her, so close now that Scully could feel the pinpricks of pain as the tiny grains were flung at her skin, cutting into her flesh like a thousand ferocious insect stings. But still she remained, a picture of stillness, until eventually she reached out a trembling hand to touch the wall of the vortex.

 

For just a second the ground shifted as the force of the swirling mass threatened to knock her off her feet, sucking her outstretched arm into its centre.

And then it was gone. 

Just like that.

Scully blinked stupidly, mouth dropping open as her surroundings once again swirled and changed, soft grass replacing the warm sand beneath her feet. 

Blue skies once again taking the place of the thunderclouds.

Peaceful. 

Tranquil. 

Dangerous.

She spun around suddenly, eyes frantically searching the surrounding area even as she shouted for him. 

"MULDER!?"

Oh dear God, where was he?

How could he just disappear like that?

And then a sudden terrible thought began to clamour for attention inside her head, and Scully sank to her knees on the grassy carpet, even as she attempted to deny the truth.

Chewed up and spit out.

An image of tissue and blood and bone appeared unbidden behind her eyes and she slammed them shut in an effort to dispel the fear that now hammered at her. She dropped her hands to the ground, supporting her weight, as she fell forwards, realization hitting her.

He's dead. Oh God, he's dead. 

"He's not dead, Dana."

Scully shook her head, ignoring the voice. 

"Leave me alone. Please leave me alone..."

And then a hand, small, delicate, grasping her shoulder carefully. 

"He's not dead. I promise."

Felicia?

"Yes."

You can hear my thoughts?

"Yes."

The child sounded calm, serene even, and suddenly Scully was gripped with an anger so fierce it overtook everything else. Shrugging the child's hand from where it rested on her, Scully shot to her feet and rounded upon her, eyes flashing like twin lasers as she faced down a child who was almost as tall as her.

Tall maybe. But a child nonetheless.

"Who are you? What the hell do you want with me?"

Felicia took a step backwards, gazing at Scully imploringly, blue eyes filling with tears as she fought to form words.

"I want...I just want you to make it stop."

"Make what stop?"

She didn't answer immediately, letting her gaze wander around the beauty that surrounded them.

"It used to always be like this. Beautiful like this. Until...until..." 

Felicia shook her head numbly as tears began to spill, her face crumpling with an expression of such grief, of such hopelessness, that Scully involuntarily took a step closer and laid her hands on the child's shaking shoulders.

"Until what?" she probed gently.

Felicia tilted her face until she could gaze up at the woman. Her mouth worked soundlessly around the sobs that wracked her body, quivering violently beneath Scully's touch.

"Felicia?"

Felicia reached up a hand and swiped at the tears on her face. A futile gesture as they were immediately replaced by more. But the action had allowed her to regain a small measure of composure. Her voice when it finally came was flat. Toneless. 

"Before I killed my father."

 

XXXX

 

Eeazy Sleep Motel. May 5th 7:20pm

"You know how crazy you sound, I assume?"

Skinner regarded the younger man before him wearily, wondering how the hell he was going to convince Mulder that the answer to all this lay in the here and now. That no amount of outlandish theories or leaps of logic were going to bring them even one step closer to finding Scully.

He had listened with increasing annoyance as Mulder recounted the events in his dream, trying as he did so to keep his expression carefully neutral. 

He'd seen Mulder behave this way before, and while he was prepared to admit that sometimes in the past he had been unable to reconcile certain aspects of the cases his two agents worked on, he certainly wasn't about to give credence to this...this unlikely fairytale.

He waited for an answer to his question, and when none was forthcoming he leaned closer to Mulder. 

"Agent Mulder? Did you hear what I said?"

Mulder raised his eyes from where they had been fixed upon the Dreamcatcher he held in his grasp, stilling the fingers that had been tracing patterns across its surface ever since he had awoken from the nightmare. 

Skinner was once again rocked by how tired the other man looked. The dark shadows beneath Mulders eyes, however, seemed irrelevant as he faced Skinner. His eyes glittered with intensity, with a stubborn unshakeable belief in what he knew to be true. It was a look that Skinner had come to know well. A look that told him everything he needed to know. 

Mulder was focused on his goal. Nothing else mattered to him.

"I heard what you said."

Skinner sighed heavily. 

"And?"

"What the fuck do you want me to say Sir? You've made your position on this perfectly clear."

Mulder's tone was calm. 

Resigned even. 

But Skinner wasn't convinced.

"That's it Mulder? That's it? Just like that?"

Mulder shook his head, annoyed suddenly that this man before him, one of his most trusted allies, was behaving exactly the way that all the others did. So tied up in bureaucratic bullshit that they refused to open themselves up even a little to a theory that lay beyond the normal conventions of scientific fact.

"You don't believe me. You give no credence to what I'm saying, so what's the point in me even trying to convince you?"

Skinner snorted.

"It's never stopped you in the past!"

Mulder allowed just the ghost of a smile to play across his lips at his superior's words.

"No, you're right. It never stopped me in the past. But this is different."

"Different how?"

Mulder dropped the Dreamcatcher to the floor, following its descent with his eyes before slowly getting to his feet. He ignored the aches the action brought about as he turned away from Skinner and headed in the direction of the bathroom. His voice floated back as he entered the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Because I'm the only one who can help her. Stay or go. It makes no difference"

Skinner leaned back in the chair and wearily passed a hand across his face. 

It would be easy to just get up and walk out of the room. Easy to return to the real world. Easy to bury himself in actually investigating this thing along with the twenty or so other fine agents who were currently employed doing just that.

Oh yes. A singularly easy choice to make. And yet he remained.

Because try as he might, he couldn't help being intrigued by what Mulder so vehemently insisted was true.

Even more so when something on the bed caught his eye. Rising to his feet he crossed over to the bed, his eyes widening as he pinched between his thumb and forefinger a small amount of the substance that lay within the folds of the rumpled sheets.

Sand? 

How the hell did sand get in here?

He couldn’t even attempt to reconcile it. 

Instead he simply went back to his seat and lowered himself shakily in to it and waited for Mulder to return.

Something told him it was going to be a long night.

Continued part 21


	22. chapter 21

DREAMCATCHER 21

 

Dreamcatcher. May 5th Time unknown

Scully recoiled as the child's words sunk in, subconsciously taking a step back as though to distance herself from her. 

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean...are you telling me that you killed your own father?"

Felicia nodded miserably.

"Yes," she whispered. "But I didn't mean to do it. I didn't."

Scully shook her head. 

"Then how?..."

"There was a fire. We were here in the Dreamcatcher. My father was burned. He couldn't get out."

Scully glanced around, fearful suddenly as she narrowed her eyes. What was that she heard far in the distance? The crackling, spitting sound of wood and fire. And with it, the faintest odour of hickory-scented smoke seemed to swirl around her senses for a second.

But there was no smoke. As far as the eye could see the woods were quiet. 

She sighed heavily and turned her attention back to Felicia. 

"There was a fire? How did it start?"

"I don't know. They never told me."

"Who never told you?"

Felicia frowned. 

"The police, of course. I tried to find out but I guess they didn't want me to know."

Scully wiped the perspiration from her eyes as she regarded the child before her quizzically. She was hot, she was tired, she was hungry, and right now she had not the slightest inkling as to what Felicia was trying to say.

"The police were here?" she queried uncertainly, stepping away from Felicia as the child's face once again contorted in to an expression of sheer rage. She opened her mouth in an attempt to find some way to soothe the girl but Felicia beat her to it. 

Her tone was ugly, belligerent, frustrated.

"No! Why don't you listen? No one ever listens and soon it'll be too late! It didn't happen here."

Scully folded her arms over her chest, aware for the first time not only of the chill that had invaded the air around her but also of the storm clouds that were gathering far in the distance. Rolling and boiling, they almost matched the expression on Felicia's face, and it suddenly struck her that the last time this child had become angry the world around them had suddenly become dark.

" I'm listening okay?” she said softly.

The child's face once more relaxed slightly and to Scully's amazement, the breeze around her once again warmed perceptibly, playing with the errant strands of her hair which tickled her face pleasantly.

Felicia pulled on Scully's hand as she began to sit on the soft cushion of grass. Scully resisted for a beat before allowing herself to be dragged down.

They faced each other, Scully with her arms clasped around her knees, Felicia cross-legged with all the easy agility of a twelve year old. She was regarding the older woman thoughtfully, as though trying to decide whether to share a secret with her.

"What?"  
Felicia shrugged. 

"I didn't think you would be the one. I mean I thought it would be your partner who would be here."

"The one to do what?"

Felicia began to pull at the long grass in front of her absentmindedly before turning clear, blue eyes on Scully. 

"To save us. But it was you. All the time it was you. There was a fire, you see. It started at home when my dad was here with me. He used to bring me here all the time when I was little."

She raised a hand and pointed to a mountain far off in the distance. It loomed blue-grey against the sky, its peak topped with snow that sparkled in the sunlight.

"You see that mountain?"

Scully nodded slightly.

"Well, my dad used to take me there. We'd saddle up the horses and ride for miles. It's the most beautiful place. It was all beautiful then. The sea, the meadows, the animals, all of it beautiful. My dad said that I would always have this place. That no matter how hard things got I could always come here."

Felicia's voice had dropped to just a little above a whisper and Scully had to strain to hear her.

"And then I ruined it all. I made it dark."

Her eyes once again filled with tears, but this time she made no attempt to rid herself of them, just sat and watched them drip steadily onto the ground beneath her.

Opposite her, Scully reached out and grasped her hand.

"How could you ruin it? Because of the fire?"

Felicia sniffed, choking back the sobs. "Yes. He hadn't wanted to come here that night. He had work to do, he said. He was a scientist. But I wouldn't quit. I kept on and on at him until he agreed."

A small smile appeared and then was gone. So fleeting that Scully wasn't sure she'd even seen it at all.

"He always said I could wrap him around my little finger. So he came. And while we were here there was a fire back home. I didn't know until it was too late. We were riding the horses and he just...he just...oh God, he began to burn...but the horse didn't. It just kept on going with him on top. He was screaming..."

Scully watched in horror as the child buried her face in her palms, shaking with the force of her sobs, her words almost lost as she struggled to breathe through the pain.

"He was screaming my name...but I couldn't reach him. I couldn't save him. I tried but I couldn't. I felt myself being taken away, back to the house, back to my bed and when I got there it was so dark. I couldn't breathe but I could still hear him screaming in my head. I tried to get back to him. I tried so hard, but the smoke was too much and I think I passed out. When I woke up it was too late."

"Too late?" Scully swallowed. "Too late for what?"

Felicia shook her head helplessly.

"Too late for me to get him out of here. He died, you see. But only on the outside."

She finally dropped her hands away from her eyes and Scully watched carefully until the child was able to continue.

"Don't you understand yet? He died out there. But here he's still alive. He's trapped here forever. I trapped him here. It's all my fault and he hates me for it."

"No...Felicia, that's not..."

Felicia pounded the ground with her fist. 

"Yes it is! He hates me now. That's why he does the things he does. I thought if I brought my friends here it would make him happy...but it didn't. They just scream and scream when they first see him and that makes him so angry."

Scully shivered. 

That breeze again.

Gathering storm clouds in the distance. The scent of burning wood. The scent of death. 

"Why have you brought me here Felicia?"

The child's next words chilled her .

"Because I want you to kill him for me. I want you to stop him before he hurts someone else. Before he hurts you."

 

XXXX

 

Eeazy sleep Motel. May 5th. 9:12p.m.

"So what do you want me to do?"

Skinner regarded the man before him as Mulder removed his weapon, checking the magazine as he did so. Satisfied, he replaced the gun in the holster that he had earlier secured to his right side. Skinner's eyes had widened slightly a few minutes before as Mulder had performed a similar check on a smaller weapon that magically appeared from a leather casing wrapped around his ankle. He was damn sure it wasn't FBI issue but he had let it pass for the moment.

He still didn't really understand what Mulder hoped to achieve with all this. What his exact plan - if one could call it that - was.

Mulder had showered and changed. Picked at the take-out meal that Skinner had grabbed for them both and then had simply sat, staring into space for what had seemed like hours. The air between them was charged with electricity and neither man had spoken during the wait. It had almost seemed to him that Mulder was actually trying to relax. That in the midst of all this madness he was attempting to clear his head.

Until finally, he had risen from his position on the bed and began to check that his weapons were in place and ready for use.

"Mulder?"

Mulder dropped back onto the bed, crossing his arms behind his head as he regarded his superior through narrowed eyes. 

"I want you to watch over me as I sleep..."

"What? Mulder, what.."

"I mean it. Don't question it, just do it. The first sign that I'm in trouble you wake me up. You wake me up using whatever means you think necessary."

Skinner shook his head as he recalled his earlier Nightmare on Elm Street jibe and wondered for a minute if he had truly fallen into the alternate universe that was Mulders’ mind. 

"You mean you're going to sleep? Now?"

Mulder shook his head. 

"No. I'm going to get Scully."

"Okay, now you've lost me. You're going to get Scully how exactly? By sleeping? That's crazy."

"Probably." 

Mulder laughed, the sound totally without mirth. 

"I might be wrong. I might fall asleep and dream the dreams of the innocent. But then again I might not. That's why I need you here."

"To wake you up?"

Mulder smiled softly as he closed his eyes.

"No. To bring me back."

Continued part 22


	23. Chapter 22

DREAMCATCHER 22

Dreamcatcher May 5th. Time unknown.

Scully stood before Felicia, hands on hips and the irony didn't escape her that this was the exact same stance she used when trying to explain to Mulder just why they shouldn't be embarking on whatever outlandish journey he happened to have in mind for the day.

She was aware of the child's earnest face staring back at her and in this light, the coming of the night as dusk lay all around them she was struck once again by how delicate this girl was.

The white blonde hair lay softly on her narrow shoulders, contrasting pleasantly with the battered denim shirt she wore and in the peculiar half light her skin seemed all the whiter, translucent even.

But it was her eyes that really struck Scully as being remarkable. It wasn't just the colour. After all, blue eyes were blue eyes and she herself had been blessed with them, but Felicia's eyes reminded her of Mulders’. Chameleon eyes that seemed to change their colour at will. 

At one point, when she had first met him, her partner's eyes had unnerved her as they changed colour a hundred times a day depending on his current mood. 

Until that wonderful day when she was able to read him just by looking in to those eyes. The day that she was able to take a tiny glimpse in to the soul of this most complex of men. Mulder could hide his emotions skilfully. It was one of the most irritating aspects of his personality. He could keep his expressions firmly in check, allowing those around him to see only what he wished them to see.

 

But his eyes always betrayed him. She had learned to read them, occasionally feeling humbled by what she saw in him, especially in the way he looked at her. 

Scully had realised a long time ago that what he felt for her transcended mere friendship. That the bonds that bound them together were unbreakable, irrevocably tied together by the events they had experienced. Together for all eternity unless the unspeakable were allowed to happen. 

The prospect scared Scully more than she was prepared to admit, but lately, in the dark of the night she had lain in bed, staring at the patterns that the moonlight threw across the room and wondered just how she would go on should something happen to him. 

That he be taken away from her never to return. 

That he would die. 

That she would never again be allowed a glimpse at those beautiful, complex eyes that displayed a myriad of emotions. The she would never be allowed to really see him again.

*Oh God Mulder please be okay out there*

Lost in her thoughts Scully hardly noticed Felicia's expression harden, didn't notice that the child had clenched her hands in to fists, arms hung rigid by her side. 

But her voice wasn't so easy to ignore. It hit Scully with the force of a bullet.

"STOP IT!"

Scully looked around, mystified by this sudden outburst.

"Stop what?"

Felicia grabbed at her hand, digging her short nails in to Scully's skin just hard enough for her to cry out as the almost forgotten pain of her blistered flesh flared up once again in response to the assault.

"Stop thinking about him."

Scully snatched her hand away from Felicia's. Trying not to flinch as the violent action caused the healing flesh to open up again. She felt a wetness on her skin and realised that she had damaged it even more than it already was and a split second later the area began to burn as the burst blisters came in to contact with the cooling air around them. 

Scully's mouth dropped open as the realisation struck her.

"Before.....when I was in the other place, the place by the sea he came. He came because I was thinking about him. I brought him here with my thoughts didn't I?"

Felicia slammed her hands over her ears and backed away as all around her the wind began to blow, harder, with a ferocity that chilled Scully to the bone. It cut through the thin material of her flannel pyjamas that moulded themselves around her like a second skin. And yet the child before her seemed untouched by the force of the wind. It didn't seem to impact her as she raised her face heavenwards, screaming in to the skies, her voice turned hard, unforgiving with a ferocity that matched the elements around them.

"NO!! I WON’T LET HIM TAKE YOU AWAY...I WON’T!"

She lunged forwards, catching hold of Scully's arm even as the wind began to scream around her and suddenly Scully was aware of nothing other than deep, encompassing pain. She had known pain before of course both physical and emotional but this was different. This was a pain that seemed to rip her apart until nothing else existed.

*I'm dying. Oh God am I actually dying?*

The thought was fleeting, replaced almost immediately by a feeling of hopelessness. Knowledge that her will was not her own anymore, that nothing she could do would change the situation here. 

Because she didn't hold any of the cards.

They were instead, held exclusively in the hands of disturbed twelve year old girl.

Inside of her she felt something irrevocably and viciously break free and with the last vestiges of awareness leaving her conscious mind, Scully drew upon all her strength to open her mouth and scream his name. 

Screaming out to Mulder. 

Praying that where ever he was right now he would hear her. That he would find her once again.

An image of him visited the recesses of her mind as she finally succumbed to the pain. And with it a dark nothingness overtook her as she crumpled to the ground.

 

XXXX

 

Mulder was aware of the sound of Skinner's breathing. 

world. But with the comfort came a resignation that this wasn't working. That despite himself he hadn't yet managed to fall asleep. He was still aware of the soft mattress beneath him. Of the weight of the thin blanket that he had covered himself loosely with. He had tried to will himself to relax. To fall in to the slumber he needed in order to find her.

To lose her now was unthinkable. To let her go with no explanation, with no knowledge of how to bring her back to him. After everything they had been through together to lose her this way filled him with horror. 

He remembered once, not so long ago when he had implored her not to leave him. To not walk away from everything they had fought so hard for. To stay by his side as she had always done. He had opened his heart to her in a way he had once imagined was an impossibility. He had stood in the dingy hallway of his apartment building, seen the hopelessness of the situation reflected in her eyes and begged her like he had never begged anyone in his life before. 

Because he had finally realised that if she walked away he was nothing anymore.

Such a sweet moment in their lives together when she had walked back toward him, raising her arms to cup his face in her hands as she pulled him towards her. And for just a moment he had felt like he could walk eternal with her by his side.

But eternity had been so very short that day. 

Scant minutes before she had been taken from him once again. 

Leaving him alone to battle those who had taken her. Far across the oceans where they were expected to die because Mulder had known that they would expect him to go after her and that doing so would cost the both of them their lives. But, against all the odds they had once again prevailed, picked up the shattered remnants of their lives and once again carried on.

They hadn't spoken again of that shared moment in his hallway where they finally came together, allowing themselves to answer a need that had burned inside of them for so long, but Mulder knew that it would always be there. 

Simmering beneath the surface every moment of every day for the rest of their lives.

*Jesus Christ Scully, where are you?*

And then he heard it, faint at first, far in the distance. 

Her voice screaming his name. Seemingly coming from inside his head the sound grew ever louder until it blocked everything out and he shuddered involuntarily as just for a second he felt her pain. It invaded his very core, taking his breath away with its ferocity, sending him spiralling downwards, falling through nothingness. Unable to breath as the fall stole the very air around him. And all the while her screaming grew louder. Surrounding him completely. 

And he surrendered to it. 

Willingly he allowed himself to go to her.

XXXX

 

Mulder had no idea as to how much time had passed. Had no concept even of what time was anymore. He had hit the ground hard, coming to rest in a heap as the sun beat down upon his head, warming his aching bones pleasantly. The instinct to remain asleep was a strong one inside of him as he hovered somewhere between sleep and wakefulness but other thoughts were beginning to push at him that were getting stronger all the time as they clamoured to be heard.

Scully

He groaned softly, shaking his head slightly in an effort to clear it. He was aware of a warm stickiness around the area of his temple and without opening his eyes he gingerly brought his hand from beneath his body to trace a path to the source of the pain. 

The second his probing fingers made contact with the deep, open wound a thousand pinpricks of light assailed his senses, exploding in pain as he was finally dragged in to full wakefulness. His eyes snapped open and he swallowed down the acidic bile that had risen in his throat in response to the sudden shift in equilibrium.

 

He shook his head again and was finally rewarded as his eyes began to focus; allowing him to regain a measure of control and with it came the strength to raise himself up on one elbow. Almost immediately his gaze settled in a small group of grey rocks that protruded from the grass on which he lay. One of the rocks, the smaller of the group, was smeared with fresh blood. His blood and he realised that he must have struck his head as he landed.

"Great." He muttered as he realised by taking in his surroundings that the meadow in which he lay was, aside from the cluster of rocks, as smooth and unblemished as that of the surface of a billiard table.

Except...far in the distance, almost discernible against the short grass a flash of emerald green. 

Low to the ground. Unmoving.

*Scully*

Ignoring the pain, Mulder sprang to his feet in one fluid movement and tried to push himself to run, but his limbs didn't seem to want to co-operate and he had to be content with the peculiar limping gait he seemed capable of. Despite this though he covered the ground remarkably quickly and even before he reached her he knew that it was her. Lying before him on the ground, face upturned to the blue sky. Her face was pale, a bruise at her hairline the only colour that graced her skin, her slightly parted lips an unnatural greyish blue and as Mulder skidded to a halt, dropping to his knees beside her the world seemed to tilt as the unthinkable slammed in to his brain.

*She's dead. I'm too late.*

His throat constricted with the thought, driving all the breath from his body, but he forced himself to concentrate. To fall apart now wasn't an option. He pinched her wrist between thumb and forefinger and his eyes slammed shut in gratitude as he felt for her pulse, finding to be strong and regular against her skin. Now that he was calmer he was aware of her chest rising and falling evenly as she breathed.

He was unsure though as to whether she was unconscious or asleep. The bruise beneath her hair was a nasty one and unwilling to injure her further, Mulder resisted the temptation to simply gather her in his arms and instead gently touched a finger to her cheek.

She's so cold

It didn't make any sense. The world around them was warm. Stifling even and Mulder could feel the perspiration running down his back beneath the T-shirt he wore, plastering the thin material to his body. 

He increased the pressure slightly, breathing her name as he did so.

"Scully?"

Nothing. No response.

"Scully?"

Louder this time and he was rewarded as her eyelids began to flutter in response to the sound of his voice, even more so when her tongue snaked out to wet her dry lips as she struggled to form the words.

"Muh...Mulder?"

Her voice was thick, slurred even, but to Mulder it was the most wonderful sound imaginable and his throat constricted as she finally forced her eyes open, immediately squinting against the bright light, she tried to turn her head towards him but cried out as the pain returned once again. 

He gathered her in his arms, gently for fear of hurting her more and closed his eyes as she lifted her arms and clung to him, breathing in the scent that despite everything was still, unmistakably Scully.

"Ssssshhhh it's okay. Don't try to speak. Everything's going to be okay."

He felt rather than saw her nod her head slightly, felt her relax against him.

"I'm so tired Mulder."

Her voice seemed to come from far away as his temple began to throb once again. The pain now creeping back up to the surface as the adrenaline he had needed to get to her began to recede and he struggled to keep his eyes open, terrified that if he should close them she would no longer be there when he opened them again. But even as he experienced the thought he began to lose the battle with consciousness. Her voice was replaced by a buzzing inside his head as his grip on her loosened, falling back with her against him, he lost consciousness.

 

Eeazy Sleep Motel May 6th 6:01a.m.

Skinner tilted his head back as he attempted to rid himself of the kinks that sitting motionless in a chair all night had caused. He had spent the night with his eyes fixed on Mulder as he slept in the bed before him, searching for any signs that the younger man might be restless. 

There had been none. 

Mulder had slept the sleep of the dead. Hardly moving, his eyes had never flickered.

So much for his theories. 

As Skinner had feared, this whole charade had come to nothing and it seemed to him that the only person to come out of this ahead had been Mulder. At least he'd managed to get some rest. It had been a long time since Skinner had pulled an all-nighter and he had to admit that he wasn't as young as he used to be. All night vigils were for those with the advantage of youthful energy...or in Mulders case, single- minded determination. He'd known the younger man to forgo sleep for days when in the grip of a difficult case and it never ceased to amaze him just how he managed to stay so focused.

Without a doubt Mulder was the best Agent Skinner had ever had under his command. The man's mind was unfathomable at times in its complexity and he envied the way he was able to make great instinctive leaps that were able to take him exactly where he needed to be. Skinner had no doubts that had Mulder chosen a different path he might have been the finest criminal profiler the FBI had ever known. 

But he hadn't. He had chosen to pursue the X-Files. Some said it was a waste of his extraordinary talent. That he should be brought back in to the conventional fabric of the FBI. Or at least they used to. Now no one seemed to particularly care one way or another. Mulder had become an embarrassment. A joke. His ability was wasted on them now and Skinner knew that they were just looking for an excuse to end his career for good. To rid themselves of this man who had stepped beyond the boundaries of Bureau protocol just once too often during the past few years.

Lost in thought, Skinner didn't notice the subtle shift in Mulders position on the bed. The way his body curled slightly in a protective gesture as his hands were drawn together, didn't notice the thin blanket as it seemed to take on a life of its own.

The changes happened in much less than a single second. 

Happened almost too quickly for the naked eye to capture and when Skinner was questioned later he would be unable to provide a satisfactory answer as to how the body on the bed inexplicably became two.

Skinner shot to his feet, unable to reconcile what he now saw, for on the bed before him lay two people. 

Mulders body spooned protectively around Scully. The fact that they resembled spent lovers wasn't lost on Skinner, but he had no time to even process the thought as he crossed the room to get closer to them.

The first thing he saw was the blood, pooling from a deep cut at Mulders temple it dripped down his face to fall unchecked on to the snowy white sheets beneath, like a blossoming rose it grew and grew against the material.

Skinner dropped to his knees and grasped Mulders shoulder.

"Mulder?"

He began to shake as he felt for signs of life in both his Agents. 

The fact that Scully had simply appeared before him was, for the moment at least, lost on him as his training kicked in with a vengeance. 

Mulders pulse was strong at least. The head wound was nasty but unlikely to be life threatening.

He turned his attention to Scully, struck for the first time by how pale she appeared to be. Her skin when he felt it was cold. Frowning, he dropped her wrist abruptly, turning his attention to her neck as his fingers probed along her jaw line.

No pulse. 

Nothing.

"Shit!"

With one hand he groped for the cel phone stored inside his jacket pocket, punching out the numbers even as his other hand began pulling at the buttons that held Scully's pyjama top against her body.

His call was answered almost immediately.

"911 emergency"

"This is Assistant Director Walter Skinner with the FBI. Badge number JTZ 0179-324. I need an ambulance now. I have two Agents down."

The woman on the other end of the phone was calm, professional, detached, seemingly unimpressed by Skinner's position of authority as she took down the Motel's address.

"I have an ambulance despatched to that address Sir. Can you confirm current status of the injuries?"

Skinner closed his eyes, swallowing heavily.

"One male, unconscious. One female with no pulse or respiration."

"Have you commenced CPR Sir?"

"I'm about to."

Skinner cut off the call, throwing the phone carelessly on to the floor as he once again fell to his knees beside Scully, unheeding of any possible injuries as he dragged her from the bed and on the floor before him. And even without realising it, as he pinched his fingers to her nose, bringing his mouth to cover hers, Walter Skinner began to pray.

Continued Part 23


	24. Chapter 23

DREAMCATCHER 23

St Mary's Hospital. Cleveland Ohio. May 7th 11:01pm

Something was different. 

Even as Mulder struggled to regain his senses he knew. For one thing he could hear voices, vague and distorted but voices nonetheless, surrounding him as they melded together. The words not yet discernible they just buzzed irritatingly inside his head, constant, impossible to ignore.

He was aware of the heavy sheets that weighted down his aching body, starched clean sheets that in normal circumstances might have been comforting but that now seemed constricting. Binding even.

And, as he came further towards the surface, something else struck him.

The smell here was all wrong. 

A strong scent of antiseptic and cleaning fluid. 

An unmistakable scent.

The scent of medicines. Of hospitals.

Absurdly pleased that he had been able to make the connection, Mulder attempted to open his eyes. But the heaviness persisted, dragging him down. Refusing to free him.

It wasn't time yet. He knew that. 

So despite himself he began to drift once again, to block out the voices that seemed closer suddenly, more familiar as they whispered his name. 

But the one voice that might have prompted him to throw off the chains that bound him in unconsciousness was Scully's. 

And hers wasn't among them.

 

XXXX

He was unsure as to how much time had passed when the voices returned. But they seemed clearer. He was able to separate one from the other. Could hear them clearly beside him.

"He's coming out of it."

It was enough to prompt him to ease his eyes open, surprised suddenly by the pain that accompanied the action. His whole head ached. From his jaw line to his crown it was encompassed in an all consuming hurt that made the images before him swirl together in a blurring mass as he fought to hold on to consciousness. The effort became almost too much as his hands found their way to the stainless steel tubular bars that were attached to the side of the bed. Their use in the main was to prevent the patient from falling, but now Mulder curled his fingers around them as he pulled himself to the side, turning his head as a wave of nausea overtook him. The room tilted crazily, reminding him of long forgotten fairground rides from his childhood.

Back then it had been fun.

Nothing fun about it now though as the nausea gave way to painful retching, each action threatening to tear his already aching head apart with the violence of the spasms. 

Under normal circumstances Mulder might have felt embarrassed by the fact that he was puking over the side of the bed like some kid who had over indulged in cheap vino, especially in front of his superior Agent, but right now it didn't even cross his mind. 

Because right now he just wanted it to stop.

 

A hand on his shoulder, reassuringly solid.  
"Take it easy Mulder it's okay." 

And then that same voice, hardening with authority as he shouted to some unseen   
presence in the room.   
"Get a Doctor in here right now."

Mulders released his grip on the bars, hand groping the air, trying to connect with Skinner, who for some reason seemed to be wavering back and forth in front of him. Eventually he gave up and dropped his head back on to the comforting softness of the pillow again, closing his eyes in an attempt to block out the pain. 

His voice, when it came sounded strange even to him.

"Scully...where is she?" he managed shakily.

He didn't hear Skinner's answer. Barely even acknowledged the fact that the words had left his mouth before the room once more began to spin sickeningly. Before the sounds around him were replaced with the buzzing as everything went dark again.

XXXX

 

The next time he awoke there were no voices. Just softly muted sounds that suggested to him that it was night. 

He'd spent enough time in hospitals to know that the sounds never really ceased. They simply became quieter in deference to the hour as voices were lowered to hushed whispers and the only sounds to shatter the silence were those of patients crying out in the night or of the occasional muted footsteps that passed by on the corridors beyond.

Mulder kept his eyes closed, breathing evenly until he felt it was time to attempt to open them again. When he did he felt dizzy, out of himself somehow, as though his head had been stuffed with cotton wool. But that was okay because it blocked out the pain he had experienced earlier.

His hand ached and he gingerly brought it up so that it was in his field of vision, realising that the source of the ache belonged to a plastic IV tube that snaked in to the back of his hand and around his wrist to carry on upwards. He followed the tubing with his eyes until he discovered its source; a plastic bag of clear fluid that he guessed was probably a combination of saline and pain relief. Morphine maybe? That would certainly account for the heavy feeling he was experiencing.

He discovered that keeping his hand aloft was just too much effort and he allowed it to drop, catching the IV line as he did so. Pain flared briefly around the area and he groaned involuntarily.

Before he had even finished, the voice reached him.

"Mulder?"

Almost simultaneously Skinner's face appeared beside him, concerned, relieved and so damn tired looking.

"How are you feeling?"

Mulder shrugged.

"How do I look?"

"The truth?" 

Skinner tipped his head on one side as he regarded the younger man beside him. 

"You look like shit."

Mulder shrugged, wincing as he did so.

"Thanks"

His eyes narrowed as he allowed his gaze to scan his surroundings.

"Where's Scully?"

Skinner swallowed heavily, wishing he were able to buy himself a bit more time before answering. But Mulder had a right to know. He deserved to know. But that didn't make it any easier. 

For the last few hours he had divided his time unevenly between his two agents, spending the majority of time at Mulders bedside, understanding the futility of remaining with Scully while she was in her present condition. 

He also realised that no such rationale would prevent Mulder from going to her. 

During the hours he had spent here Skinner had concocted and discarded a dozen different ways to break the news to Mulder in a way that might prevent him from leaving his bed immediately and heading off to find her. He also knew there was no easy answer, that whatever he said, Mulder would do just as he damn well pleased. 

It was a pattern he had become accustomed to over the years. 

So instead, he cleared his throat and decided on a direct approach.

"She's up in the ICU."

Before the words were fully out of his mouth he watched Mulder react in exactly the way he had known he would and he shot out a hand that connected solidly with Mulders chest to prevent him from sitting up. 

For a second, Mulder fought against him, but weakness and fatigue eventually won out as he allowed Skinner to push him backwards on to the pillows.

"Take it easy." Skinner advised.

But he knew Mulder was beyond that. He had that look in his eyes that reminded Skinner of a rabbit caught in the headlights, frantically seeking a means of escape, a way to get to her. 

Slowly, he removed his hand as Mulder relaxed slightly beneath him.

"The ICU?"

"Yes."

"Why? She was fine.......she was injured but........"

His voice trailed off.

"What's wrong with her?" he demanded finally.

Skinner sighed.

"I wish I could tell you. The medical personnel here don't have the first clue. When she....when you...came back she wasn't breathing..."

"WHAT?!"

Mulder pushed himself up again and this time Skinner didn't try to restrain him despite the beads of sweat that formed on his agents' forehead.

"What do you mean? I’m telling you, she was fine. She spoke to me....."

Skinner shook his head.

"Be that as it may Mulder, whatever happened to you both, she’s not fine now. She's on life support and the way things are looking they don't expect..."

He cleared his throat, faltering suddenly, hating himself for having to be the one to deliver the news. 

Seniority sucked sometimes.

"They don't expect her to live through the night."

Continued part 24


	25. Chapter 24

DREAMCATCHER 24

St Mary's Hospital. Cleveland, Ohio May 8th 6:03a.m.

 

Skinner frowned as he rounded the corridor that led to Scully's room. It had been a long night. Both the emotional and the physical costs had been enormous for them all. 

Finally, just ten minutes ago he had managed to reach Margaret Scully on the telephone after trying to track her down for the better part of yesterday and last night.

She had been out of town and apparently not picking up her messages from where ever she was. Finally though, his cel phone had trilled and the FBI dispatcher had patched her through.

To break this kind of news to someone face to face was difficult enough. To have to do it long distance was practically impossible. But break the news he had, listening to the laboured breathing on the other end of the line as his words had finally sunk in; the sound of Scullys mother as she desperately attempted to hold on to her composure long enough for him to furnish her with the details.

He wished with all his heart that he could have downplayed the gravity of the situation in some way. That he could have offered her some thread of hope to cling to as she made the journey here.

But much as he wished it might be so, he knew that it was a futile hope.

Because even though Scully had surprised them all that night as she clung onto life tenaciously the signs were certainly not promising.

In fact, only an hour previously one of the ICU team had quietly pulled Skinner to one side and gravely informed him that it wouldn't be long. That whatever precarious hold she currently had on life was slipping away. 

Slowly but surely Dana Scully was dying by degrees.

She was now on full life support. 

Kept alive by machinery until such a time as the medical personnel were directed to cease in their efforts to keep her alive. Without the equipment surrounding her she would die almost immediately. That had been spelled out plainly for Skinner as he attempted to find something, some crumb of hope that she might come out of this.

In fact, he was having a hard time reconciling the fact that she was even there at all. 

He couldn't deny what he had witnessed in Scully's motel room. But neither could he explain it, couldn't explain how she suddenly appeared before him. He had been questioned at length by the medical personnel, unable to furnish them with the answers they needed. 

It had been patently obvious that they didn't believe him.

He couldn't blame them. He hardly believed it himself.

 

But he had seen it and no matter how much he tried to deny it to himself, he knew what he had seen to be true.

In the blink of an eye, Scully had just been there. 

Just like that, and truthfully, in the immediate aftermath of her return, Skinner hadn't had time to really question it, so intent had he been in bringing her back to them.

It had been maybe five minutes from the time he placed the call to the emergency services to the time they barrelled through the motel room door and swept him out the way. 

Five minutes that had seemed like five years as he breathed for Scully. Five minutes that stretched into eternity. Five minutes of switching to autopilot as he performed chest compressions, muttering encouragement to her through clenched teeth. Five minutes in his life that he had no doubt would return to haunt him for years to come.

But his efforts had, in some small way at least, been rewarded. 

The EMTs had spent almost an hour attempting to stabilize her before loading her into the depths of the ambulance along with an unconscious Mulder. They had been rewarded by the faintest, flickering pulse that fluttered feebly beneath their fingertips like a dying butterfly. 

The tiniest spark of life. 

Of hope.

Skinner had insisted on riding in the ambulance with them. 

The harried EMTs hadn't argued. Time was of the essence and they hadn't wanted to waste any by engaging in fruitless discussion with this man. All of their energies were focused on Scully, on keeping her alive until they could get her to the hospital.

Twice they had almost lost her.

Twice they had brought her back.

And all the while, Mulder lay not two feet away from her, deeply unconscious and oblivious to the drama that was being played out beside him.

For that at least, Skinner was thankful.

Their job done, they had passed her over to the crash team in the ER department and departed silently. 

Skinner hadn't even had time to thank them.

Since then, each hour that passed had seemed to merge and meld into the other. He had divided his time as best he could between staring numbly down at Scully as she lay, naked beneath a single sheet in the ICU, and sitting by Mulders bedside staring equally numbly as he wondered how the hell he was going to tell him about his partner's condition.

But that had been hours ago.

Mulder had awoken and the second the realization had sunk in, he had done exactly as Skinner had expected him to. 

Despite the combined protests of several medical staff, the younger man had heaved himself from his bed, ripping out the canular as he did so, ignoring the blood that dripped from his hand in a steady stream of red droplets, and demanded to be reunited with his clothes.

His doctor had been summoned to try to talk some sense into him and had been rewarded by the charming profile of Mulders clenched jaw as he completely ignored him.

It was, Skinner noted, like trying to hold back the wind itself. 

Because regardless of how it may endanger his own health, there was nothing, nothing on this earth that would keep Mulder from his partner.

Eventually they had all realized the futility of their efforts and with much shrugging of shoulders had left him alone with Skinner to sign the necessary disclaimers and get dressed.

He had followed Mulder to the ICU and been there to offer a steadying hand as Mulder caught the first glimpse of his partner. 

Even Skinner had to admit that it was a shocking sight. 

Scully lay there with what seemed like a hundred tubes attached to her body, unmoving, unresponsive. They hadn't even bothered to dim the lights around her bed, and the harsh glare had made her appear even paler than she actually was.

In fact, if Skinner were honest with himself, she looked like she was dead already. 

A corpse beneath that plain, blue cotton sheet, kept alive until someone came along and pulled the plug.

He had watched as Mulder sucked in his breath at the sight of her. Stepped forward to offer his assistance as the younger man folded before him in a manner that suggested someone had just sucker punched him in the gut.

Mulder had angrily shrugged his hand away.

There was nothing he could say, nothing he could offer as Mulder stumbled away from him and crossed the small space that separated him from his partner. Skinner watched silently as he extended a shaking hand towards her, his fingers gently brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen over her pallid face. 

And time seemed to stand still.

Long moments passed that would become lost in his memory before Mulder finally lowered his body to the single chair that sat like a sentry beside the bed.

Long moments as he stood there watching the younger man slip his fingers beneath Scully's hand, wishing he could offer him something, anything to ease his pain.

But Mulder was oblivious to everything. His every fibre was concentrated on the woman lying before him, and Skinner doubted he would have even heard any words of comfort he may have been able to muster. So he had simply turned on his heel and left them together.

But now he had returned only to find Mulder still in that same position. If he had moved at all, Skinner could see no evidence of it. He felt like an interloper, as on some level he always had where these two agents were concerned. Oftentimes he had caught himself wondering about the relationship they shared, wondering just how deep their commitment to each other actually went.

One thing he was certain of - they had ceased being merely professional people thrown together in the course of their work a long time ago. What they shared went so much deeper. It was as though each only existed as a part of the other. And most times he envied them.

But not now. 

Right now he thanked God that he wasn't in Mulders shoes.

"How is she?" 

The question was redundant. He already knew what the answer would be.

But he needed something to draw Mulders attention away from her. He needed to look into his face. He needed to check how he was doing right now.

He immediately wished he hadn't. He wished he hadn't needed to affirm what he already suspected. 

Mulders eyes, when they met his, were shockingly blank, vacant even. All the light that habitually shone from them was extinguished by the long hours he had sat here.

His voice when it finally came sounded flat. Lifeless.

"The same."

Skinner nodded. 

"Her mother's on the way here."

Mulder glanced at Scully then closed his eyes briefly. Skinner would never have believed it possible unless he had actually witnessed it, but it seemed like Mulders face drained of even more colour. He hadn't shaved and the stubble was like a black rash against his skin. 

As he watched him, Skinner immediately understood.

Guilt.

It was practically palpable.

"Mulder..."

He stopped, though, as Mulder once again turned tortured eyes toward him, locking gazes with his superior as he uttered a silent plea. And Skinner heard him. Even without words he heard him.

What am I going to tell her?

And for once in his life, Skinner just didn't know the answer. He doubted anyone did.

 

XXXX

Dreamcatcher. May 8th. Time unknown.

 

The first thing Scully saw when she opened her eyes was a face. A small, elfin face framed with a halo of dark hair.

It was peering down shyly at her, green eyes questioning even as the tiny, rosebud lips offered the most tremulous of smiles.

"I thought you weren't ever going to wake up."

She frowned as the child's words reached through the fog that had descended all around her. 

There was something about the child that was familiar. That face, those lips. Somewhere in her memory she had seen her before.

But where?

Scully fought against the tiredness, willing herself into full wakefulness as she gradually became more aware of her surroundings.

She was lying on a mattress of fleece. So soft it almost seemed as though it were made of spun silk, cushioning her against the uneven surface of the ground beneath it. A similar, much thinner blanket covered her almost to her chin, and a sudden memory of another time danced fleetingly into her mind only to be gone seconds later.

Mulder.

He always covered her with blankets when she was sleeping. 

She had lost count of the amount of times she had awoken with the soft warmth tucked around her. She wasn't sure when it had started. Possibly back in the days when she still had cancer and towards the end she had seemed to be permanently freezing. 

At a time when Mulder was desperately trying not to disappear in to the ether of his own darkest fear, unable to put in to words his emotions, he had simply tried, in his slightly clumsy way, to take care of her. 

But Mulder wasn't here.

He had been inexplicably replaced by this child. 

A little girl who seemed almost ethereal in her beauty, a child Scully had seen somewhere before.

She closed her eyes, forcing her mind back.

*Rich, ebony hair spread across a pillow of ivory silk..*.

And then it came to her. 

Like a bolt of lightening the realization slammed into her brain, throwing off all vestiges of sleep as she opened her eyes, scrambling upright she grasped the child's arm. 

To confirm to herself that she was real. That the child before her was really who she thought it to be.

"Gina?"

Continued Part 25


	26. Chapter 25

DREAMCATCHER 25

Dreamcatcher May 8th. Time unknown

 

The child smiled at Scully, a tremulous, hesitant smile which made no attempt to belie the sadness behind her eyes. Her skin beneath Scully's touch was soft and smooth. 

Slowly, as though weighing up the question, Gina nodded. 

"I think that's who I am."

Scully frowned. Whatever else she had expected, this wasn't it. 

"What do you mean sweetie?" 

She tried to keep her voice gentle, to not frighten this child any more than she already was.

Despite that, however, the child's eyes filled with tears as she shook her head from side to side. 

"I mean, I think I'm me...I'm just not sure anymore."

Scully tried to gather her thoughts together enough to make sense of what the child was saying to her. It was hard. She felt as though she had awoken from a very long, very deep sleep. It was difficult to shake off the fatigue, difficult to concentrate.

"I don't understand." 

She gently tugged on Gina's arm to bring the child down to her level. Maybe then she would begin to open up to her. 

"Gina, tell me what you mean."

She knew this child should be articulate. She knew enough about her background to know she was intelligent, precocious, outgoing. But right now, as the child stared back at her through the tears that now spilled over from her eyes and trickled down her rosy cheeks, Scully could see none of those things. Instead, there was just a little girl who seemed broken, terrified, hopeless.

For long seconds, Gina didn't speak, until finally, she swallowed back the sobs just sufficiently to force the words out. 

"Sometimes...sometimes I think I'm dead. I wake up and it's all dark and I can't breathe. And that's when I think it."

Scully reached out a hand and smoothed Gina's hair away from where it had blown across her face, forcing the child to look at her. 

"Gina, honey, that's not true."

Gina shrugged. 

"I don't want to believe it. But Fliss says I might be."

"Fliss says?" Scully's voice was incredulous.

"Yes." Gina nodded, her words coming faster now. "She says that sometimes when we're here, that when we think bad thoughts, they can come true. That if I think that I might be dead it might come true..."

Gina's face crumpled completely then as Scully pulled her into a comforting embrace, rocking the little girl gently against her as her voice rose in a pitiful wail that made Scully's throat close up. 

"I don't want to die. I just want to go home."

Scully stroked the child's hair gently, feeling the warmth on the palm of her hand as the sun beat down above them, allowing Gina to cry against her, the tears dampening the material of the green flannel pyjamas she still wore.

"Shhhhh. I know you do, sweetie. I know. I want to go home too"

Scully closed her eyes, seeing her partner's face behind her lids - an imprint of him that seemed to have been burned on her soul, an image of his face as he was torn away from her, screaming out her name. She wondered fleetingly if she would ever see him again, and then the thought was immediately replaced by the need to comfort this child.

She gently disentangled herself from Gina, pushing the child back so that she could once again look into her eyes. 

“Gina I promise that you will be okay. We both will. I promise okay?"

But her words sounded hollow. Even as she spoke them she knew it was hopeless. Out there, in the real world, she would have had answers. But here she had none..

The fact didn't escape Gina.

"No, we won't," she said dully. "Not until she says we can."

"Who says?"

"Fliss. She's in charge. She always has been. We have to stay until she says we can go back. She...she gets real angry if we try and leave."

Scully felt the hairs on the back of her neck inexplicably stand on end as a sudden chill swept over her. Beneath the warmth of the sun, goose flesh broke out on her skin. 

She could suddenly feel it. 

For perhaps the first time she could almost reach out and touch the evil that existed here. And like a jigsaw puzzle the pieces began to slowly fall into place.

"Did Elisabeth try to leave before Fliss said it was okay?"

She felt Gina tense a split second before she pulled herself out of Scully's grasp, and she could swear she saw the colour literally drain from her face as the child stumbled backwards away from her.

"Gina?"

Gina held out her hands to Scully, a supplicating, pleading gesture.

"Please don't ask me that. We're not supposed to talk about it. Fliss would be angry if she knew."

But Scully persevered. 

"She tried to leave, didn't she? And Fliss didn't want her to?"

She watched as Gina dropped to her knees, burying her face in her hands as she began to cry again. She considered comforting the child, but another part of her, the pragmatic part that lurked at the forefront of her personality, recognized that she needed answers. Her voice took on a hint of desperation.

"Gina, if you want me to help you, you have to tell me. Did Fliss hurt Elisabeth?"

Slowly, so slowly, Gina raised her head, her breath hitching in her chest, reminding Scully of the way she had looked when they had discovered her hiding, terrified, behind that dark armoire. 

How long ago was that? Scully couldn't be sure. Time held no meaning here. Nothing had meaning except the burning need inside her to find whatever answers she needed to leave this place.

"You can't help me," Gina said. "You can't help me 'cuz you don't understand. Fliss...she didn't mean to do it...she was trying to stop her. Lilly was going to tell, you see. Fliss couldn't let that happen, so she tried to stop her...she made her think bad thoughts."

Scully rubbed a hand wearily across her brow. This was getting them nowhere. It was like being locked inside the most perplexing conundrum.

*Mulder would know*.

But he wasn't here. Scully was no longer sure where here even was anymore.

"Bad thoughts?" she queried uncertainly.

Gina nodded. 

"Nightmares. Do you ever have nightmares, Agent Scully?"

"Sometimes," she admitted as the child turned away from her. Even from her position behind her, Scully could see the sudden droop in the girl's shoulders.

"Fliss says that nightmares are made up of the things that we are most afraid of. All the things we can't think about when we're awake. She says that's what dreaming is for; to get rid of the bad stuff."

*Blood bone and tissue*.

"Gina?"

The child remained standing with her back to Scully. She made no attempt to turn back to her, but Scully sensed she was listening, ready to answer now.

"What was Elisabeth most afraid of?"

The question seemed to hang, balanced on the air between them until finally Gina spoke. Her words were so soft that Scully had trouble even hearing them. But it didn't matter. 

Because she already knew.

Chewed up and spit out.

Spiders. 

Nine year old Elisabeth Armstrong, like many little girls her age, had been afraid of spiders.

Scully slammed her eyes shut as the bile began to rise in her throat.

“Oh my God.”

And when she opened her eyes once more, Gina was gone.

XXXX

 

St Mary's hospital. Cleveland, Ohio. May 8th. 7:56p.m.

 

Mulder was all too aware that she was watching him. 

He could feel her eyes boring into him in much the same way he was able to feel Scully's when she was concerned about him.

It wasn't surprising that he should feel this same connection now. And it was comforting somehow. It was as though a piece of Scully was there with him. But he refused to raise his head, to make contact with her. To make contact would be to admit his fatigue and while he might be able to fool Skinner, Margaret Scully was another matter all together.

She had arrived earlier in the day, had stood horror-struck before her daughter's lifeless form, her eyes darting wildly around the room as she fought to hold on to her composure, and he had admired her for it, admired her for not breaking down. 

 

Like Scully, she would do her crying in private. She was a strong woman. Just like his partner.

He had thought for a minute that she hadn't even noticed him there. Sitting quietly holding Scully's hand, he had made no sound. He could hardly bear to look at her, this woman whose daughter had suffered so much at his hand. 

But she had noticed. Had crossed the room and gently laid a hand against the back of his hair. 

Offering forgiveness even before he had time to open his mouth, telling him without words that she didn't blame him for this, just as she had never blamed him for things past.

Mulder hadn't wanted to respond, hadn't wanted her to comfort him when he didn't deserve to be comforted, but despite himself, he had turned his head and allowed her to hold him against her as his tears began to flow.

They had remained there for a while not speaking, until finally, Margaret had asked him the question he had been so afraid of.

"What happened, Fox?"  
He hadn't been able to answer her. Hadn't been able to give her any explanation, and he hated himself for it.

The only surprise had been that Margaret Scully didn't hate him too.

But she didn't. The very fact that she was not only watching over her daughter, but him as well, only added credence to that fact. He knew he didn't deserve it.

"Fox?"

It was easy to ignore the fact that she had been watching him, but almost impossible to resist her when she spoke. He lifted his head and faced her. They sat, either side of Scully's bed. 

Just sat there. 

Hour after endless hour, hoping for some sign, some tiny movement to suggest that she was still with them. So far, though, their hopes had been in vain.

He rubbed a hand across his face, wincing as he inadvertently disturbed the small square of gauze that covered the wound on his temple. Pain flared briefly to be replaced with a dull ache. He knew he was pushing it. And from the look on her face, Margaret knew it too.

"You need to rest."

He shook his head. 

"I can rest here."

"Fox, please..." 

 

She rose to her feet then, moving to stand by his side. He allowed her to drop a hand on his shoulder, feeling his throat tighten at her next words. 

"Dana would want you to take care of yourself. At least come with me to get something to eat."

Margaret reached across him and gently smoothed a hand across her daughter's arm. 

"She needs us both now, Fox. She needs us to be here for her, to hope for her. And she needs you to be whole. Can't you see that?"

Mulder nodded slowly, tearing his gaze from where his partner lay.

*Don't leave me, Mulder.*

And he rose to his feet, dropping a kiss on her brow before he did so.

"I'll be back I promise"

Continued part 26


	27. Chapter 26

DREAMCATCHER 26

Dreamcatcher. Time and date unknown.

For the first time in her life, Scully had become unaware of the passage of time. No longer sure as to which was day and which was night, she simply put all her energies into existing.

She would close her eyes and try to sleep, only to have strange dreams catapult her back to reality.

Fliss had been right.

Nothing here was real.

Least of all herself.

But the time alone had given her the space she needed to put together the confusing aspects of this place. 

To know it. 

To understand it. 

And in doing so, she had found a kind of peace. 

 

This place - the Dreamcatcher - was just as Fliss had told her it was. A combination of one's fondest wishes and darkest nightmares. On several occasions, Scully had bolted upright, still in the grip of whichever horror had chosen to visit her during her troubled sleep.

She slept a lot. She dreamed a lot. Sometimes she found herself wondering if this whole thing was a dream from which she was unable to awaken.

Some of the dreams had the ability to rip at her heart, to have her wake with Mulders name on her lips, forced to cope with the crushing disappointment of knowing he wasn't here.

Her subconscious mind had been allowed full rein. It seemed that everywhere she turned, there was a vestige of some dream, some nightmare, lingering before her eyes.

Sometimes the landscape was filled with sunshine - light that chased away the darkness of the night. But more often it was dark, dark enough sometimes to make even seeing her hand in front of her face impossible. 

Scully had no way of creating light. All she could do was to sit trembling, her knees drawn up against her chest for warmth as she waited for it to pass. 

Or for sleep to claim her once again.

She had lost weight. The flannel pyjamas now hung off her slight frame, and that told her better than any clock that she had been here a while. Whether the time could be measured in days, weeks, or months, though, she found herself less sure of. And truthfully, it just didn't seem to matter anymore.

For the first time ever, she felt truly alone, even more so when she had awoken, sweating and shaking, from her latest nightmare with the sun beating down upon her tear-streaked face. 

Different from the rest, it had been frightening in both its clarity and form. Because unlike the other dreams, she had not been aware that she was dreaming. She had, with practise, become adept at waking herself up before her subconscious took her too far. 

But not this time. This time she had stood on the periphery of the dream and watched the drama play out to the bitter end.

She had seen herself with Mulder. Both of them were searching for something amongst a warehouse full of wooden crates. Scully hadn't known exactly what they were looking for. It hadn't seemed important at the time.

They were dressed casually, both wearing jeans and shirts, weapons drawn as they scanned the area before them. It had been Mulder who had turned to her and suggested they split up, to quicken their search. To yield whatever results they were hoping to find. 

Scully hadn't argued. She had simply branched off to the left, ears straining to hear even the tiniest sound that might bring them closer to what they sought. For a while there had been nothing aside from the sound of her partner's retreating footsteps across the building as he sought this invisible, unknown foe.

She had taken comfort from the sound of his steps, knowing that he was okay. Until suddenly the steps stopped and a second later she heard a strange scuffling sound as though something or someone were being dragged.

Mulder?

She had called out his name, softly at first, and then when no response was forthcoming she had spun around and retraced her steps to where they had last been together, growing ever more frantic as she failed to find him, failed to garner a response from him as she called out to him.

And then she had stumbled across him. 

Literally. 

Her partner.

Lying on the floor in a pool of blood. 

She had tripped when her foot connected with his outstretched arm, falling headlong onto the ground beside him, a scream already building in her throat as she realized the source of the blood.

Her gaze had wandered along the length of his body, finally coming to rest on the ragged flesh that protruded from the neck of his T-shirt. A pristine white T- shirt that was now soaked with his blood. His once beautiful, expressive eyes were fixed ahead, his mouth open in an expression of almost comical surprise, as though he couldn't quite believe what had happened to him. 

And Scully had heard a sound, a high-pitched animal wail, that began to reverberate around the enclosed space. She had no concept that it might actually be coming from within herself. No concept of anything other than the sight of her partner's decapitated body in front of her.

She had awoken to find sunshine streaming down through the trees, and while she was thankful at least that she hadn't awakened in the darkness that now seemed almost constant, the sunshine seemed out of place, almost an aberration. The tears had streamed unchecked down her face as she fought to let go of the images that still assaulted her. 

Was this what Gina had meant when she told of the Dreamcatcher's power to make one's darkest nightmares into reality?

Was this what her darkest nightmare truly was? If Scully were honest with herself she would have to admit one day that the possibility of losing him filled her with an emptiness that even she couldn't fully comprehend. To let go of him now, after everything they had shared, was unthinkable, and the realization that what she had just witnessed had been nothing more than a dream failed to have any impact on her.

She was still crying when the voice reached her.

"You have to stop crying all the time. It makes him angry."

Fliss?

Scully raised her head warily, eyeing the child who had knelt beside her and tried to remember when she had last seen her. But the days had merged into one frightening, confusing chain of events and she found she couldn't.

Five years or five minutes. It just didn't seem to matter anymore.

She did vaguely recall their last conversation though.

You have to kill him for me.

That faceless someone whom this child was so afraid of. 

Scully turned her head away from Fliss, closing her eyes as she did so. 

"I won't help you. You're wasting your time"

Her voice was flat, emotionless. Directed at this child who had taken so much from her and who now came to her for help.

Fliss dropped onto her knees beside Scully, her hands grasping at the woman's arm, fingers biting into them cruelly. 

"You have to help me."

Scully shook her arm free. 

"No, I don't."  
She was aware that the child's eyes had filled with tears again, her mouth beginning to quiver as Scully's words registered. Her words when they finally came were suffused with such longing that Scully almost wavered.

"But my father..."

Almost but not quite. Ignoring her natural instinct to simply take this child into her arms, Scully rounded on her. The ferocity of her words was enough to bring her to her feet, dragging the frightened child with her.

"Your father isn't real. Don't you understand that? You kept him here. You kept him here because you feel responsible for his death. YOU’VE KEPT HIM HERE BECAUSE YOU CAN’T LET HIM GO!”

She shouted the words in Fliss’ face, no longer mindful of her adult status. All the anger, all the rage came spilling out as she held the child before her, shaking her as she did so, watching her head snap back and forth with the force.

It was only the shrieking sound of Felicity's screams that brought her to her sense. 

"STOP IT!"

The child was near hysterical and Scully stepped back, releasing her as she did so, horrified and ashamed by her actions.

"Fliss, I'm sorry..."

"SHUT UP! You don't know what you're talking about."

Scully shivered.

*It's coming. Oh God, the darkness is coming.*

She could feel the first stirrings of the trees above her, could hear the whisper of the leaves as they began to move gracefully in the wind, growing louder with every second that passed, becoming more violent as the wind gathered in force. She almost didn't hear Fliss’ next words as the child turned her face toward her, eyes alarmingly blank, her voice toneless. Defeated.

"You don't believe me. No one ever believes me. But now you will. Because he's coming. And you can't stop him."

 

XXXX

St Mary's Hospital. May 16th, 1999

"I think you should stay."

Margaret's hand grasped Mulders softly in an effort to make him understand. To make him see that if he walked away now he might very well regret it for the rest of his life. 

This final goodbye to his partner. 

His best friend and maybe the only one he had ever truly loved. 

Try as he might to deny all he felt for her daughter, Margaret could see it in his every glance, his every gesture. In every single breath he had breathed during this never-ending week as he had kept a vigil beside her.

He had barely slept, snatching a few minutes here and there before bolting awake once more. It had been painful to watch him. More painful still as she came to realize his vigil had been in vain. That no amount of love was going to bring her daughter back.

She had left the room, allowing him the privacy to say his final goodbye. But time was against them. Maybe it had been against them from the start. His goodbye had been so brief and she had returned a scant few minutes later to find him cradling Dana's still form against him, sobbing into her hair as he implored her to please forgive him.

The sight of them together had cracked the remaining piece of her heart cleanly in two, because as much as she was suffering, she was aware that Mulder would suffer for the rest of his life. However short that might be. She doubted he would find it in himself to carry on without her, and for a moment she had felt ashamed, ashamed that she had never fully appreciated all that this man was.

It was why Margaret felt it was so important for him to be here now, to be a part of her as she left them. But he was adamant as he turned away from her, unable to face this final hurdle. He had remained so strong throughout all this, through this endless week when they had hoped against hope that the doctors were wrong.

But finally they had been forced to confront the finality of the situation. 

Scully had lain unresponsive to everything around her, unable to breathe for herself, her brain patterns stilling with each passing day as she crept further and further away from them.

In life she had been very specific about the course of action that should be taken here. 

They had to respect that decision.

But Mulder knew he couldn't be with her for this final journey. He couldn't stand there and watch as the life drained from her, couldn't watch her die.

Briefly he tightened his fingers around Margaret's.

"I can't." 

His eyes implored her to understand, to understand that he wasn't strong enough to do this. That no matter what happened he could never bring himself to be there when his partner died. 

But Margaret understood.

How could she not?

He had just helped her to sign away Dana's life.  
It had come as a shock to realize that her daughter had listed him as joint next of kin. Even more so when she discovered that even Mulder had been unaware of the fact. Maybe she had been right to do it, though. Maybe Dana had realized that her mother would never have had the strength to do this alone.

Margaret's eyes filled with tears as she turned away from the sight of Mulders retreating back, his head bowed down. All hope lost, he resembled a prisoner of war hoping for a release that had never come. And ignoring her wish to go after him, she instead turned her attention to the man who had just entered the room.

The priest smiled softly at her, his face suffused in a pious calm that Margaret dearly wished she felt. He gestured that she come closer. To pray with him as the doctors did their final work.

"It's time."

Margaret nodded.

"Yes."

 

XXXX

 

Dreamcatcher May 16th Time unknown.

 

Scully flinched at Felicia's words but stood her ground, grasping the child's thin arms even as she attempted to squirm out of Scully's grasp.

The wind swirled around them, reminding Scully of the way the sand had stung her skin when the vortex had risen and swallowed up her partner. Now, however, there was no sand, just the force of the wind as it buffeted them both. It had become noticeably darker, the storm clouds gathering above their heads.

Fliss struggled against Scully, eyes wide and terrified, no longer the confident character she had been only moments before. 

"Let me go! He's coming!"

Her screaming plea was almost swallowed by the chaos around them, but Scully didn't falter. It was becoming harder and harder to hold on to the girl, especially one almost as tall as she was, but Scully knew that the only way to end this was to make Felicia confront her demons.

She needed to prove to her what she had suspected for what seemed like an endless time.

Scully didn't pretend to understand everything that happened in this terrible place, but there was one thing she was certain off - that Fliss's nightmares were no more  
real than her own.  
Terror without substance. 

The product of a mind tortured with a crippling guilt of things past.

Beneath her, the child's screams became louder, more frantic. 

"He's here!"

 

Scully narrowed her stinging eyes against the wind stream, squinting against the gathering darkness in an attempt to see what the child saw. And there was no doubt in her mind that Fliss did indeed see something.

The horrifying spectre of her long dead father had no doubt risen to haunt this child on night after endless night, and from the way the child had become rigid beneath her grip, Scully had no doubt that she saw nothing different now.

It was becoming almost impossible to see as the darkness crept upon them, slowly and ruthlessly devouring everything in its path. The wind screamed, making it almost impossible to hear Fliss's cries beneath its force. But nonetheless, Scully did hear her. As clearly as if the child was screaming directly into her ear.

"Don't you see him?!"

For just a second, Scully could make out a shifting form to her right. A dark, pulsating mass that crept closer, as though waiting for a formal invitation. A face, twisted in a grimace of such fury, such evil, the likes of which Scully had never witnessed before.

But then she shifted her glance slightly and the vision was gone.

She spun Felicia around so that she was facing the child, shaking her as she did so. 

"There's nothing there! Can't you understand that?!"

Fliss's eyes were glassy, uncomprehending as she struggled against Scully, locked in a nightmare world that she had conjured for herself. But deep down inside of her, the words reached her.

"You don't see him?"

Scully softened her voice slightly. 

"No, I don't see him."

For a second she thought she had won, thought that the child beneath her was ready to accept the truth. She loosened her hold slightly, realizing her mistake immediately as Fliss twisted away from her. The tears still streamed down the child's face, an expression of such agony that Scully could feel her own throat begin to tighten. She took a hesitant step toward the child, swallowing as she did so.

"Fliss..."

"NO! NO! NO! Leave me alone!"

The child slammed her hands over here ears, and Scully was unsure for a moment whether the frantic plea was directed at her or at whatever this child could now see. Fliss's next words, though, confirmed her fears.

"He's real. HE IS! WHY CAN'T YOU SEE HIM?"

Scully shook her head, taking another step, holding her arms out in a placating gesture. But a sudden blinding flash of light stopped her in her tracks.

Behind the light came a familiar voice that called out to her, hard to decipher as the sobbing grew louder.

*Mom?*

And suddenly she could see her. Could see herself, lying silent and still in a hospital bed, as her mother hovered over her. Scully watched as her mother brushed a strand of hair from where it lay against her cheek.

There were other figures clustered around the scene, but Scully had to narrow her eyes in order to see them. Doctors. Two or three of them. All talking softly as they did their work.

One of them, the older of the three, seemed to be concentrating on an area around her face.

Scully swallowed and took a step closer, heart hammering in her chest. Every fibre of her being screamed out to her that this was different somehow. That it wasn't a nightmare. Clamping down on the thought, she continued to watch the scene unfold before her, hovering on the periphery like a spectator on her own life.

And then she realized. 

A blinding realization that caused her heart to cease its relentless beat for long seconds. The older doctor turned to Margaret and raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Scully watched as her mother closed her eyes. Nodding affirmation to whatever unspoken question had just been asked.

I'm dying.

With the realization came pain. Scully stumbled backward as the scene before her became fuzzy around the edges, like a bad television picture that has lost reception for a minute.

A searing pain in her chest drove the breath from her body, making breathing an impossibility. Even as she began to fall, losing her hold on consciousness, Scully realized, finally, the reason why Mulder hadn't tried to find her.

 

XXXX

 

St Mary's Hospital. May 16th

 

"She looks so peaceful."

Margaret Scully spoke softly, not wishing to disturb the silence that now surrounded them, but needing to say something, anything to once more receive confirmation that this was real.

Mulder raised weary eyes toward the older woman, a ghost of a smile flittering across his lips for just a second before settling them back to his partner. 

"Yes, she does."

It was impossible. He knew that.

Despite all he had seen, all he had experienced before, he knew that what they now viewed was a medical impossibility. The fact that Scully was still with them defied all explanation. The fact that she was breathing independently when all the medical personnel had told him time and again that such a thing wasn't possible made no kind of rational sense.

But Mulder would take it.

As he had sat in the hallway, waiting for Margaret Scully to emerge, he had clasped his hands together and prayed for the first time in years. Long-forgotten prayers from his childhood, stolen from a time when he still *believed.*

Whispered words. 

Desperate words. 

Words he had no right to even utter. Mulder knew he had no right to ask Him for anything, so long had it been since he had even acknowledged His existence.

But for Scully he had prayed, imploring whatever higher power might be listening to please not take her away from him. Not like that. Never like that.

And somehow, somewhere his words had been heard.

She was still with them. And as Mulder increased the pressure on her hand, he prayed that wherever she was, that she would know he was there with her.

 

Continued part 27


	28. Chapter 27

DREAMCATCHER 27

Dreamcatcher. May 16th. Time unknown.

 

"Wake up! Please Dana, please, please wake up!"

Felicia dropped to her knees beside the still form of the woman who had only seconds earlier been standing before her. She had watched as Scully's eyes had become alarmingly blank, fixed ahead on a scene that Fliss had been unable to either recognize or understand.

At first she had felt a certain amount of smugness. Smugness in that Scully was finally seeing all that she, Fliss did. But this had rapidly become replaced with a numbing horror as she watched the woman pitch forward onto the grass beneath.

Initially she hadn't wanted to approach, so sure was she that Scully was dead. But slowly, against her will almost, Fliss had drifted toward her.

Tears of relief had sprung to her eyes when she realized that Scully was alive. It was difficult to see, the rise and fall of her chest was so slight that it barely seemed to be moving at all. But there nonetheless.

Tentatively, Fliss reached out a hand and rested it on Scully's face. 

"Please wake up," she whispered again, more tears falling as her words went unheeded.

 

She barely noticed the figure who had followed her over, barely acknowledged him as he stood beside her, a hand on her shoulder.

The figure stood there, silent, not speaking as Felicia turned tortured eyes upon him.

"Please...please Daddy, tell me how to help her."

The figure didn't speak aloud. He didn't need to. Words weren't necessary here. They never had been.

 

XXXX

St Mary's Hospital. Cleveland, Ohio. May 17th 12:02p.m.

 

"How's she doing?"

Skinner inclined his head toward Scully's unconscious form, then shifted his gaze back to Margaret.

"She’s hanging on." 

She kept her voice low. Not in deference to her daughter so much as for the man beside her.

Skinner nodded.

"And him?"

Margaret shrugged, glancing where Mulder sat, half on one of the stiff, uncomfortable chairs and half on Scully's bed. Eyes closed, his head rested on one folded arm, the other still covered Scully's fingers loosely. She doubted he could manage to get any closer if he were to abandon the chair altogether and climb up there on the bed with her.

The image made her smile softly.

"You know, he hasn't slept? Not once since I arrived here."

Margaret's voice held a yearning, wistful quality that Skinner had never heard before.

"He's cat napped, sure. But this is the first time he's slept."

She rose to her feet silently, careful not to let the chair scrape against the tiled floor, and crossed over to Skinner, grasping his arm gently. 

"We should leave him to rest. I don't know about you, but I could use a cup of coffee."

Skinner nodded. It didn't take a genius to figure out Mulders previous reticence with regards to closing his eyes for even a short while. To have done that earlier in the day might have stolen precious moments away from his time with her. Moments where, no doubt he would have been drinking in the image of his partner. Trying to find a way to store her memory within him. 

A way to sustain him when he found himself alone.

But now, there was hope where before there had been none. A slim hope maybe, but hope nonetheless, and Mulder had deemed it safe to escape his vigil for just a short time.

He needed sleep. That much was obvious. To exist as he had for this long would have destroyed lesser men, and Skinner didn't need a medical degree to know what this last week had cost him. He could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times Mulder had left this room for more than ten minutes at a time.

Sleep wouldn't solve everything. But it would certainly go at least some of the way.

Nodding thoughtfully, his eyes still on Mulder, Skinner put an arm around Margaret's shoulders.

"Coffee sounds good."

 

XXXX

12:11pm

Someone was shaking his shoulder. 

At first he thought he was dreaming, but the action became more persistent. Trying to open his eyes, he found his fatigue was just too much. Ignoring the hand that gripped him, he burrowed his head further into the softness of the blanket beneath his cheek.

But the shaking became more urgent, refusing to be ignored. And finally he came back to himself, threw off the bonds of sleep that still held him, and raised his head wearily.

Immediately he did so, though, his breath caught in his throat.

For next to him, bathed in a strange, almost ethereal glow stood Felicia Slabbert.

A glance to his left confirmed that Scully was still with him. And for a second he watched in wonderment as the subdued lighting endowed his partner's pale skin with a kind of luminescence that he had never seen before.

"You have to come with me."

Mulder started visibly at the child's words. 

"What?"

"You have to come. You have to save her."

Mulder frowned, bringing a hand to his head as he did so. 

"Am I dreaming?"

He watched as Felicia smiled. And like Scully had done before him, he was suddenly struck by how sad this child appeared to be. It were as though she had seen everything, experienced everything that the world had to offer. Had experienced it and found it wanting. 

But the smile was there nonetheless, accompanied by a tiny twinkle that spoke of how this child had once been. 

A child who held in her hands the secrets to that most elusive of worlds that   
existed between wake and sleep.  
"You're not dreaming. But you're not really awake either," she supplied hesitantly.

Felicia drifted over to where Scully lay, tracing a finger along the bed until she reached the pillow where Scully's head rested. 

"I never meant to hurt her," she whispered. "I just wanted her to help me."

She turned back to Mulder, and something inside of him cracked sharply as he watched those beautiful blue eyes fill with tears, which slowly escaped their confines to drip slowly down her pale cheeks. He hadn't realized that a child was capable of expressing this kind of misery.

It bled from her every pore. Her every gesture was one of defeat.

"I know now I was wrong. That no one can help me."

Mulder stared at her, hardly daring to breathe. 

"What do you want from me?"

Felicia bowed her head, hiding from him almost. So like Scully it took his breath away. 

"I want you to come with me. I want you to take her back. I want this to be over."

Mulder rose to his feet slowly. 

"How do you know I can?" he asked gently, surprised when the child's face broke into a tremulous smile that chased away the shadows for just a heartbeat.

"I know because she loves you. She always has. And her love for you will bring her back. You just have to go to her.” 

Continued part 28


	29. Chapter 28

DREAMCATCHER 28

Dreamcatcher. Time unknown.

Mulder was aware of the journey. Unlike the last time, there was no pain, no violence, just the weird sensation that somehow he was moving, transcending from one conscious plane to the next.

He felt no fear. Instead there was just an overriding sense that this was right, that the child beside him would allow no harm to come to him. She guided him, gently, almost reverently through the fine mists that now surrounded them and Mulder somehow knew that there was no danger here.

It was a beautiful sensation, an abiding peace that cloaked him protectively as he became ever more detached from reality that floated around him, tickling his senses pleasantly. And all the time he could feel her, could feel Scully's presence. He knew that with every step he took, he was travelling closer to her as she reached out to him through his mind.

He had no concept of how long the journey actually took, had no way of judging the time that passed. And truthfully, it just didn't seem to matter.

Finally, a touch on his arm brought him back as the mists fell away, leaving Mulder feeling as invigorated as if he had slept for hours. His every sense seemed heightened, sharpened somehow by the magic of this place he now saw before him; a forest glade where the trees stood like tall sentries all around, reaching up to a sky that, to Mulders eyes at least, seemed impossibly blue. Rays from the sunlight above dappled the soft ground with a million ever-changing patterns, colouring the grass pleasantly with its golden hue.

Flowers grew in abundance. A dizzying array of colour that swayed and shifted in the light breeze, transforming subtly in to ferns as they crept toward a sparkling pool set in the centre of the glade.

Like a scene from a child's fairy tale. 

So breathtaking that for a moment Mulder couldn't speak.

Beside him Fliss watched his reaction, seeing as though through his eyes, taking in the beauty that surrounded them. Knowing that he was seeing it as it should always be seen.

"What is this place?" he breathed, the sound catching on a summer breeze where it seemed to dance, suspended in the air.

Fliss smiled softly, the act transforming her face, giving it a lightness that Mulder had not yet witnessed.

A child's face. 

Suffused with all the innocence she had once enjoyed.

"This place?" She let her eyes swing lazily around to take in the landscape. "This place is a dream, Agent Mulder. Your dream."

Mulder tentatively reached out a hand and captured a maple leaf between his thumb and forefinger, needing something tangible to hold onto, to affirm that this was indeed really happening. 

"And Scully? Is she here?"

In answer to his question Fliss simply lifted her arm slowly, knowing that Mulders eyes were fixed intently on her. He followed her outstretched finger, almost afraid to look too far should the picture before him disappear.

For just in the distance, half concealed by a bank of dazzling white lilies, lay his partner. She was curled up atop the emerald green grass, barely discernible against it. Knees drawn up to her chest, she appeared to be sleeping and as Mulder moved closer, he could just make out the curve of her lips against the pale skin. 

Smiling slightly in her sleep.

He reached her finally, unwilling to disturb the silence around them by rushing to her side. He sensed that there was no need for haste, that regardless of how long it might take him to get to her, the end result would be the same. But eventually he allowed himself to kneel beside her, touching a hand to her face, feeling her warmth through his fingertips.

It was enough for his throat to close painfully. To feel her like this, to know that she was alive beneath him was almost too much to bear, and unable to restrain himself any longer, Mulder slipped his hands beneath her, lifting her slightly so as to gather her against him. He burrowed his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of sunshine and flowers like a drowning man taking a last sweet taste of air before he died.

His eyes, when he finally raised them to Felicia, were wet with tears. 

"Why doesn't she wake up?"

Felicia smiled. 

"It's not time yet. Soon, though. Soon she’ll wake up."

Even as she uttered the words her face clouded over. Her expression took on a faraway look as she shifted her eyes away from Mulder, fixing them on the mountains that loomed in the distance, their caps shining snowy white in the sunlight.

"And then you'll leave."

Mulder gently disentangled his arms from around Scully, laying her down softly on the carpet of green beneath them, turning his attention to Felicia. 

"And you?" he queried. "What will you do?"

Fliss kept her eyes fixed ahead, working her mouth slightly as she fought to keep hold of her composure.

"I have to stay here."

She inclined her head slightly towards Scully. 

"I thought she would be the one to help me. I know now that no one ever can."

Mulder shook his head.

"I don't understand."

Fliss finally turned toward him, meeting his eyes with her own, sending that same jolt of energy through him that he had felt the first time they had met. 

A child who was old before her years. 

A child who knew more than he could ever even hope to wish for.

Her tone was dreamy. All traces of her earlier tears were gone.

"I made this place. It's my mind. Just like this is yours now. The things we see here are controlled by us. We see different things. It's what we can make it. What we can imagine it will be."

She shrugged.

"I have to make it right again. I have to stay here. To make sure no one ever gets hurt again...like...like my father got hurt. Like I hurt Lilly. It was my fault, you see. All of it."

"No." Mulder grasped her hand, squeezing it tightly. "Your father's death wasn't your fault. It was an accident. I read the police report..."

He trailed off then, knowing more than anyone that simple reports rarely told the whole story. That the truth could never be confined to a few pieces of paper. There were so many different kinds of truth. Truths that would never be acknowledged. He knew.

Oh, yeah. He knew.

Even so, the thought of this beautiful child, suspended in this world of dreams, of nightmares, was almost too much for him to bear.

"You don't belong here," he whispered gently. "Not like this."

Fliss tightened her fingers around his. For just a few moments she allowed herself to hang onto him before she stepped away, severing the connection between them as she shook her head. 

"Sometimes I think this is the only place I do belong."

Mulder didn't attempt to follow her as she backed away from him. He just stood and watched as the image of her became hazy. It was as though the mists had returned, come to cloak the glade in darkness, but he knew this not to be the case. The sun still shone above him, warming him pleasantly as his body drew its rays toward him. The light was still here. 

Constant, reassuring, safe.

Just as it should always be.

And from within that light came form and feature. 

A winding, shimmering vortex that danced before his eyes, swallowing everything in its path. He watched, awestruck, as the vortex hung suspended in midair for a few moments before it began to tip gently toward him. But Mulder felt no fear, could hear no sounds aside from a whispering voice that seemed to fill his entire being. 

A voice that came to him through the mists.

Her voice.

The mouth of the vortex was upon him now, encasing him in light and a gossamer-like softness that enveloped him like a blanket as he watched the images before him.

Fragments of his life, pictures that played out before him, giving him access to memories he had thought long forgotten, a myriad of swirling images that had lain deep in his subconscious until now. Until he had come to this place and been allowed just the tiniest glimpse of what lay inside of him.

And in the centre of everything she stood there. Arm outstretched as she offered him her hand. Smiling softly at him, she seemed almost radiant, her blue eyes shining as he walked toward her, knowing that it was time to leave this place. 

Knowing that it was almost time for him to bring her back.

Continued Part 29


	30. Chapter 29

DREAMCATCHER 29

 

They had walked for a long time, hands clasped; fingers playing softly, skin against skin.

The breeze had picked up again, a response to the brightening sunshine as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky, keeping them comfortably warm. The grass was soft against Scully's bare feet, each step deliciously cool as she matched Mulder, step for step.

There was no hurry now in their movement as they allowed themselves the luxury of exploring this place. They were conscious that soon they would be leaving, that they would never return, and for a second Scully closed her eyes, remembering the darkness that had come again and again to cloak her days.

But now the darkness had gone. Mulder was here and had replaced the darkness with light. She had no conscious idea of how he could have known and she had already dismissed the thought as being irrelevant. He had come for her and that was all that mattered.

She had held out her hand to him and watched as, without the slightest hesitation, he had caught hold of it, drawing her toward him. For a moment he had just stared at her in wonderment, eyes intense, as though waiting for her to disappear once again. Finally he had wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight as he buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent as their heartbeats merged into one.

It was as though the world around them ceased to exist. For just a moment, time stood still. And every fibre of her being became wrapped up with his.

Two separate beings that, just for a second, became joined as one.

She didn't pretend to understand it. Deep down she already knew, knew all that they meant to each other. She realized that when this was over, they would go back to the way they always had been, refusing to admit to each other the need that burned like fire between them.

The knowledge was enough to make her heart contract painfully inside her chest. To feel so much and not be able to bring closure to it hurt her. It hurt her more than she could ever tell him. And just the feel of his fingers against her skin told her he felt it too.

There was so little time left. The sun was suddenly dipping lower in the sky and somehow Scully sensed that they wouldn't be here when night finally came. Their time here was drawing to a close. 

Not enough time. 

Never enough time.

She came to a halt, feeling Mulders forward momentum carry him onwards for just a footstep before he turned and gazed at her quizzically.

"What is it?"

Scully dropped her head, staring at the ground beneath their feet.

"Will we remember?" she asked quietly, her words almost lost as they floated downwards.

Mulder frowned. 

She sounded so lost, so lonely, her voice filled with a thousand yearnings and he wished he could give her the answer she needed. But he refused to lie to her. He refused to deceive either of them more than they had already been deceived.

"No. We won't remember, at least not in any real way."

His voice was decisive, as already he understood that they would remember this place only as one would remember a dream. 

Half-forgotten fragments that would occasionally resurface, only to be pushed away again. To be filed in that elusive part of the human memory that crumbles even as it builds itself up, a constantly changing landscape from one day to the next.

Scully nodded. The movement was barely perceptible, and suddenly Mulder knew that they couldn't end it all this way. 

That they deserved so much more; with actions that were permissible here even if not in their waking lives.

And gently, so gently, he placed his index finger beneath his partners chin, drawing her face toward him until he could look deep into her china blue eyes.

Scully breathed his name. 

“Mulder?”

The tiniest intonation of doubt seeped toward him, and for the first time Mulder allowed himself the luxury of ignoring that doubt. 

It didn't exist here. 

Out there, back in the real world, he could never have allowed himself to touch her this way, couldn't have let his lips linger against the graceful curve of her neck as he leaned in closer to her.

"This is right," he whispered, watching as her pupils enlarged, her head tilting toward him in affirmation. 

An unspoken invitation.

And almost against her will, Scully allowed him to gently ease her down until they were both half sitting, half lying on the soft grass beneath. She shivered as Mulder slid his fingers along her arm, leaving lines of goose bumps in his wake, he carried on, tracing the length of her collarbone before trailing his fingers downwards to brush against her breast.

Scully gasped.

The sensation was electric. A heightening of her senses, made so much more than she thought it could be.

This place. 

A place where they could confront their greatest desires without fear of recrimination.

And as their lips met, she felt herself sinking once again, falling into the depths of him until nothing else existed. 

Making the final step towards the end of a journey.

The world around them grew hazy, the colours swirling, blending into one, stealing away form and feature as they clung to each other, unaware now of the shift in their reality.

And in the distance, Felicia smiled and turned away.

 

XXXX

 

St Mary's Hospital. Cleveland, Ohio May 17th 12:42pm

Margaret Scully rounded the corner that led to her daughter's room. The few minutes she had spent away had revitalized her somewhat and despite Skinners best efforts, she had insisted on returning to the ICU to sit with Dana again.

She would attempt to persuade Fox to leave her bedside, for a while at least. He needed proper rest, although she doubted he would listen. Sometimes, when she looked at him, seeing his eyes fixed so intently on the woman before him, she doubted he would ever listen to anyone ever again.

For perhaps the first time she had fully appreciated just what they meant to each other, and she was desperately afraid that it would eventually be his undoing.

Squaring her shoulders in readiness for the argument that was bound to ensue, Maggie glanced toward the line of waist- high windows that afforded the medical personnel an unobstructed view of the occupants within, and just for a second, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes widened as the image of the empty bed slammed into her conscious mind with all the force of a sledgehammer.

And then, a heartbeat later, they were there again. Faster than it had taken for her to blink her eyes, the image was shattered into a million pieces and replaced with the view of Fox, still sleeping, his head turned to the side as though watching over her daughter in his dreams.

Margaret smiled and shook her head.

A trick of the light maybe? 

The product of a tired mind and a tired body. Nothing more than that.

She stood, staring through the glass for a minute longer, unwilling to disturb him from his slumber, so lost in thought she almost missed it.

A movement so tiny, so inconsequential that she almost didn't see it at all.

But the movement was there. There was no doubt about it and Margaret felt the tears forming, choking her in their intensity as they began to gather beneath her lids. But she wasn't conscious of them as they began to spill over, making a salty path down her cheeks.

Wasn't conscious of anything other than the sight of her daughter's eyes, fluttering open before her.

Continued Part 30


	31. Chapter 30 & Epilogue

DREAMCATCHER 30

 

St Mary's Hospital. Cleveland, Ohio. May 19th 10:14a.m.

Mulder eased open the hardwood door that led to Scullys room. She had been moved out of the ICU the evening before - her doctors unwilling as yet to surrender her completely from their care, but unable to justify having her take up the valuable bed space in that most specialized of departments set aside for only the very sick.

In truth, there was no reason for her to even be here at all. It was as though she had simply awoken from a long sleep; disoriented for a short time, sure, but fully aware of her surroundings and in full control of her faculties.

They were calling it a miracle. 

Just one of many that had occurred during that long, long day.

Little Gina Robik had awoken from her coma. Refreshed and energized, she had seemed unconcerned by the apparent worry of those who had maintained a vigil beside her bed. She had been questioned at length by her doctors and, amidst much scratching of heads, been pronounced as fit and healthy as any other seven-year- old girl.

This news had filtered down to Mulder second hand. His request to see the girl had been denied by her parents.

 

Likewise, the sudden reappearance of Deborah Hollis remained equally perplexing. Found in her bed, curled up against the chill air of a room that lay empty, she had been fast asleep and smiling peacefully. The startled cry of Julia Brackenhurst had woken the child who, by all accounts, had shown no disorientation whatsoever. Neither had she any clear memories of where she might have been.

Again, this information had been passed to Mulder, this time by the Cleveland P.D. who had been called to the scene shortly after the child’s discovery.

Again, he had requested to speak to the child. Again, he had been denied.

Which left only Scully. The only one who could even hope to help him fill in the gaps.

Mulder had been dragged from the arms of sleep by the sound of Scully's voice. The whispered words had cut through his dreams as cleanly as a knife through fresh butter and he had opened his eyes to find himself staring straight into the clear depths of her own. 

There had been no surprise there. Just an expression of acceptance, of peaceful serenity as she had smiled gently at him. And for a fleeting second, he had remembered. Remembered the feel of her lips on his, the way she tasted, the scent of the sunshine in her hair.

But it was so very elusive a memory. One which had hung suspended in his mind for just a heartbeat before it was gone.

She had slept deeply that night and he hadn't moved from beside her, hadn't closed his eyes for a second as he drank in her image before him. He watched over her as she slept, occasionally soothing her softly as she flittered on the edge of wakefulness.

It was good to watch her sleep. Good to know that she was back with him.

And throughout that long night, Mulder had tried to remember all that was already breaking free from him. 

So many images swirling inside his head, too distant now to reconcile. It had been frustrating - was still frustrating - that he remembered so little. But at some point during the night, at that magical point where the sky becomes streaked with the first vestiges of dawn, he had given up. He didn't understand everything, but did sense that whatever had happened yesterday wasn't yet his to remember.

One day maybe. 

But not now.

In front of him Scully sat propped up in the bed, blanket folded down to her waist. She was staring idly out the window that Mulder had already discovered afforded a wonderful view of the parking lot. The plain blue hospital gown billowed around her small frame, succeeding admirably in making her look about twelve years old.

A tray of barely-eaten food lay discarded on the small table beside the bed, and Mulder frowned when he saw it. 

"Not hungry?"

Scully started at his words, snapping her neck around and fixing her gaze on him. 

"It's hospital food, Mulder," she offered by way of explanation.

He shrugged lightly.

"You need to eat."

It was a statement of fact, no argument permitted. He crossed the room silently and after planting a gentle kiss on her cheek, perched on the bed beside her. Picking up the paper carton, he eyed its contents dubiously. 

"You didn't touch your Jell-O. Here..."

And to Scully's amazement, he dipped the plastic spoon into the desserts shimmering depths, scooped up a bite-sized chunk, and offered it to her. Even more amazing was the fact that, almost against her will, she opened her mouth obediently, as though being spoon fed by her partner was the most natural thing in the world.

Mulder grinned. 

"Better." He held out the carton toward her. "Here. You can do the rest."

Scully took the dessert from him and laid it carefully atop her knees, her eyes remaining downcast as she tried to find the right words.

"Mulder...," she faltered before raising her head once again, locking her gaze with his. 

"The things I saw, that we saw......the things I remember.....it was real? Wasn’t it?"

Mulder smiled as he cupped her chin in his palm, stroking her cheek gently with his outstretched thumb, taking a moment before answering. Wondering, not for the first time, just how much she remembered. How much she would be willing to share with him. 

"Does it feel real to you, Scully?"

He was aware that his words didn't just refer to the events that had transpired over the preceding weeks. That somehow, they had become closer. Closer than he had previously imagined possible.

To have almost lost her again. To have to prepare himself to let her go. He hadn't thought he was capable of living through it. But he had. They both had. It could have turned out so differently.

She nodded. 

"Yes. It feels as real to me as you are now."

Mulder smiled and picked up the discarded carton again, his hand hovering in front of her.

"Then it's real, Scully."

 

XXXX

DREAMCATCHER EPILOGUE

Georgetown. Washington DC May 20th 5:39pm

Scully fitted the key in the lock, twisting it deftly while pushing with her shoulder. In response, the door swung open and she stepped aside to allow Mulder to enter before her.

The apartment smelled dusty, unlived-in, as it always did when she returned from any time away. She knew it would take at least a day, maybe more, before she felt completely at home here again. She turned to Mulder, smiling as she did so. 

Because regardless of the apartment's current state, it was good to be home.

"You didn't need to bring me all the way back here."

Mulder shrugged. 

"Hey, I had nothing better to..." 

The words died in his throat and just for a second, Scully tensed. The expression on his face was guarded as his gaze settled on something in the distance.

Scully followed his eyes with her own, unable to see what it was that had commanded his attention. 

"Mulder? What is it?"

He didn't answer her, just drifted slowly toward the small table that graced a corner of his partner's living room, his back to Scully as she watched him pick something up from its surface.

"You got a package."

He held the beautifully wrapped parcel aloft for her inspection.

Scully crossed over to join him.

"A well-wisher maybe?" he suggested.

Scully shrugged.

"Maybe." 

She took the parcel from him, turning it over and over in her hands.

"There's no return address."

"Maybe it's on the inside," Mulder supplied helpfully. "You won't know till you open it." 

Scully narrowed her eyes at him. 

"Do you know anything about this, Mulder?" 

She stopped, though, as her partner held up his hand seriously.

"Scout's honour, Scully. Nothing to do with me."

"Hmph." 

Scully wasn't convinced, although his expression suggested that he was just as intrigued as she was. Rather than arguing the point further with him, she carefully peeled back the paper covering.

"Oh, my God," she breathed as the wrapping fell away to reveal an intricate circle of dazzling silver thread interwoven with groups of crystalline beads. Perfectly formed, they resembled teardrops against the silken strands.

Lifting the Dreamcatcher aloft she held it toward Mulder, who caught hold of one of the snowy white feathers that hung suspended from its centre, running it through his fingers. It was dazzling, in both its complex workmanship and its unnerving beauty. It caught the light and shimmered as though with a life of its own.

"Who sent this?" she asked quietly, not overly surprised when he didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

Instead, he knelt down slowly, capturing a piece of paper that had unseen by Scully, fluttered to the ground from within the parcel's bindings. He held it to her, watching as her eyes scanned the words, understanding clouding her delicate features. 

Words written for Scully, perhaps by a child who would remain missing forever. Locked inside a dream world of her own making.

Written in the careful hand of a young girl. 

A young girl who had set them free.

*Goodnight Goodnight  
It’s time to fly,  
To lands beyond the starlit sky.  
Where magic is real  
And dreams don’t die.  
Come home with me  
Let’s fly let’s fly.*

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story means such a lot to me. I wrote it many years ago and it was my first really serious attempt at writing a longer piece. Having re-visited it again, with the luxury of life experience and a greater maturity, I have been able to re-write certain parts of it, change dialogue etc. But in essence, the story remains the same as it did when I first sketched it out on the back of a crumpled bank statement fifteen years ago. It took me just under a year to write and there were many times I almost gave up on it. I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I have no idea where it came from, it just happened one day when I was day dreaming.  
> Please consider leaving a comment if you enjoyed it.


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